Rise and Die!
by Fluff
Summary: Draco and Hermione wake up one sunny morning just to discover that they're married, thanks to a crazy night of drinking. So they had a great night, but what about a great rest of their lives? Not if they can help it!
1. What!

Rise and Die!

Summary: Draco and Hermione wake up one beautiful sunny morning to discover that they're married, thanks to a really crazy night of drinking. 

Disclaimer: I don't own… blah, blah… you get the point.

A/N: maybe a one-shot glimpse, maybe a story. Tell me what you think.

Hermione sleepily yawned, as she opened her eyes to the streaming sun. The window was in such a strategic place, she thought happily—the sun's warmth was very comfortable. The bed was cool and the burgundy sheets were _satin_… mmm, she thought, how nice. What a beautiful way to wake up.

Until she remembered that her room definitely did not have burgundy satin sheets.

Come to think of it, her room did not have a strategically placed window either.

Conclusion: this was _not_ her room.

Suddenly wide awake, Hermione sat up in bed quickly; so quickly that her head throbbed and for a moment she could not see. She bolted out of the bed, trying to ignore this vicious headache, and looked around the room. It was a beautiful, expensive looking room—like… like a honeymoon suite almost… except it seemed to be in someone's home. The walls were cream, matching expertly with the bed sheets, and the floor and dresser were mahogany wood. An ornate Persian rug was spread delicately on the wood floor. Hermione turned her attention back to the bed and her knees promptly gave way.

Sinking to the floor, Hermione was horrified to see that there was a body in her bed. A living, breathing, body.

A body! A body of a man! And if she was here, in an unfamiliar room, waking up in an unfamiliar bed next to an unfamiliar body wearing… oh, shit… unfamiliar lingerie… then something was more than definitely off. Something was very, very off.

Keep cool, Hermione reminded herself, and willed herself not to scream out loud. Slowly she tiptoed to where the man was sleeping and tried to get a good look at his face. Her head throbbed again as a painful reminder and this time Hermione knew that it wasn't just a regular old migraine—it was a first class, grade A hangover. Shit!

She took in the man's soft, wispy, blonde straight hair, pale face, pointy nose, and decided that at the moment the safest thing to do was to have a heart attack. No. That man could _not_ be; could never be her child-hood arch nemesis! _Never_!

Oh, but it was, and one more glance confirmed it. Nobody else had hair like that, matched with that horrid pointy nose (well, maybe not so horrid, but for the moment, it was!) and that stupid pale body. Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy!

Hermione gasped as her intelligence put things together even under the massive strain of a massive headache. This was a nice, furnished, expensive room. The man in the bed was Draco Malfoy. Thus, house must be his house. She raced to the window and looked out, and what greeted her eyes was not pleasant. Well, her subconscious reasoned, it was pleasant, awfully pleasant, but right now, nothing was good. 

She noticed the expensive looking cars parked outside, the extensive grounds, the nice greenery, the beautiful gate… everything added up to the fact that she was in a mansion. A big, beautiful, sprawling mansion. Draco Malfoy's Mansion.

Aw, crap, Hermione moaned to herself, but before she could do anything else she found herself retching—in a few choice moments, Hermione had successfully vomited all over the green shrubbery directly below the room.

Wonderful. Yet another _wonderful_, _wonderful_ thing to this already _glorious_ morning.

She wanted to cry.

Hermione decided the best thing to do was to get the hell out of here before Malfoy (she shuddered) woke up. She didn't remember anything from last night, but maybe that was because her head was ready to explode should she even try to think. She wished she had her wand so she could perform the hangover spell, which thankfully Fred and George had taught her one summer at the Burrow. As quietly as possible she looked around the room, hoping to find a wand or whatever belongings she might have brought. 

Just as she was peeking in one of the drawers in the dresser, she heard a shriek.

"Holy Mother of God," someone moaned and she spun around, knowing full well that Malfoy had decided to wake.

Wait. He hadn't even noticed her yet.

Then what was he on about?

"Damn head," she heard him mutter and he fumbled around the night stand next to his bed. She watched enviously as he grasped a wand and muttered the spell quickly. She decided her plan to sneak out was shot; she might as well ask him for the wand.

"Toss it here, will you," she said, trying to sound bored but it came out quite hysterically. Her tears were threatening to spill any second.

He turned his head like a rogue bludger and just stared at her for a second, before emitting a long, large, and very extensive stream of curses. 

Hermione began to blush with some of the words, but really, she reminded herself, now was not the time.

Holy shit, she suddenly thought. She'd woken up in bed with the man; did she…aw, damn!

"We didn't… we didn't…" she began hesitantly. "We didn't sleep together, did we?" she asked in a low voice, hoping some higher power above, or eerily, Harry or Ron or something, did not hear her.

"Fuck," he said. "Fuck."

"That's helpful," she said, her voice still hysterical. "Malfoy! What the hell happened last night? I'm going to kill you!" she screamed, all control gone, and hurtled towards him for a second before the full force of the headache came back.

She managed to grab the wand anyway and quickly performed the spell. The world cleared itself and she looked him in the face, sure that his horror-struck expression resembled hers. "Granger," he shrieked. "I did not touch you last night! I did not touch you!"

"You better not have," she said unhappily.

His eyes grew wide when he looked at her and for a second Hermione was rather self-conscious, until he pointed at her finger and gasped, "What is that?"

Hermione hadn't even noticed. She looked at her hand and was more than horrified to find the most beautiful diamond she had ever seen on her ring finger. Now ordinarily, this would be a pleasant surprise, but not if you were waking up next to Malfoy. 

"This is not yours," she cried. "Please, tell me it's not."

"You stole my mum's jewelry," he finally stated.

"I did not," she retorted, anger filling her words. "You filthy little scumbag!"

The two of them stopped mid-fight as they looked closely at the ring. It was… it was a wedding band, a sparkling, simple yet elegant wedding band.

"Shit," they said simultaneously.

"Granger," he began, his voice croaking, "I think we got married last night."

"What brings you to that conclusion?" she snapped angrily.

He put up his hands and Hermione went white as she noticed he had a matching wedding band on.

"How could this happen?" she moaned. "I haven't seen you since Hogwarts! I can't be married to you!"

"I don't know," he sighed. "I don't remember a thing from last night…except that I was at a snarky new bar."

"I was at a snarky new bar," she said suddenly. "El Coconut!"

"I must've met you there," he said glumly, and not too nicely.

"Well, where'd we go from there?" she asked. "Where'd we go?"

He shrugged. "I don't know… where do mud bloods usually go?"

"Fuck off, bastard," she yelled. "You think you can walk all over me with your name-calling; well guess what, I'm married to you!"

"Don't remind me," he snarled, but he didn't call her mud blood again.

"Okay," she said logically, although her hands were shaking. "We have to think this through. First off, where are we? I don't remember living anywhere close to you."

"We're in my house, oh genius," he snapped. "I live in West London—you must've come home with me after we got married!"

"Where would we get married?" she whispered.

"I don't know, for the hundredth time, Granger! Some random chapel, perhaps? Anyhow, we must go get an annulment immediately. Get dres—" he stopped abruptly as he looked at her lingerie.

"Where'd that come from?" he asked in a strangled voice.

"I don't know, for the hundredth time," she mimicked.

"That's definitely Pansy Parkinson's," he moaned.

"Ew, gross!" she yelled. "Get it off me! Get it off me!"

"I might've _put_ it on you last night," he said, and Hermione noticed his face was hard with determination—willing himself not to cry, perhaps? "And anyway, it's new; she must've left it here after shopping—she's a good friend of mine, but no romantic possibilities."

"I did not have sex with you," she said, trying not to be embarrassed. "I could not have had sex with a filthy, awful…"

"Granger, I'm in my boxers, and you're in some fancy lingerie—what do you think the evidence points to?" he said.

Now it wasn't very often that Hermione refused to accept logic, especially when it was shoved in her face, but at the moment she could not. "I don't remember any of it," she said. "Not a thing."

He sighed. "I do."

She threw the pillow at him.

"Fuck, where'd I put my clothes?" she yelled at him. 

He shrugged. "Get some out of the closet—this is our guest room."

"Are they clean?" she demanded.

"They're new. Fresh, expensive, and new. Something you're not used to, eh?"

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," she fretted, and stormed into the bathroom.

As she was entering the shower, she heard him call out.

"Granger, this is really bad," he began. Well no shit, she thought unhappily, until he continued – "I'm already engaged."

A/N: It's pretty short, I could keep it as a glimpse one-shot or I could turn it into a story—you tell me what you think! I'm looking over it, looks kind of miserable to me, so I doubt I'll continue, but we'll see, eh? Please review!


	2. Still Morning

Rise and Die! Chapter 2

A/N: Yes, I have decided to continue it (and I really wasn't going to), because I got such great reviews! I never expected such an amazing response; thank you all so, so, so much and I hope you like this chapter just as much. To those of you that asked who our sexy lad Draco is engaged to—I say, fear not, I have not forgotten and you will soon know!

Harry Potter was strutting down Alexander Lane with his newest girlfriend, Melinda Beetoter. Melinda claimed to be a Hogwarts' graduate three classes below Harry, but Harry wasn't quite sure she was being completely honest; she didn't seem to know a thing about the place.

"So, er, you said you didn't have Professor McGonagall?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, no, she had retired by that time," Melinda said sweetly and batted her plentiful eyelashes. Harry inwardly laughed; his good buddy Hermione was always complaining about the batting-eyelashes bit. 'Good God,' she'd scream, 'It looks like the girl's got something in her eye! It is not attractive when the man thinks you are trying to wiggle out an extra contact!'

"Retired?" he asked amusedly. "But you said you graduated only three years after I did—you had to have some class with her, because I had her my entire seven years."

Melinda looked confused but said lightly, "Oh… did I? I most definitely meant seven years after you graduated, not three! Silly me! My maths skills are not top notch, I'm afraid."

Harry smiled. "It's really alright, I don't blame you. Oh, excuse me," he said as his very hi-tech and completely _wizardised_ mobile, so to speak, went off. He answered the cell as he thought about how excellent it was to have the best of both worlds rolled into one extremely good-looking phone. "Hello?" he inquired.

Melinda watched as her new beau's face turned a variety of colors, and his mouth opened to let out an absolute howl.

"I cannot believe this," he raged over the phone. "Simply cannot… Hermione! Hermione! How much bloody beer did you drink?!"

Melinda wanted to laugh, but somehow knew now was really not the time. "It wasn't beer?" Harry was saying now. "Well then what the hell was it? You don't know? You don't know? You don't know why! How can you not know why!"

"Bah," he finally said, growing all quiet. "I'll be right there. Don't move. Oh, wait, you can't, you're still _married_…"

He turned presently to Melinda and muttered, "One of my best friends got drunk and married our enemy. Will be right back."

With that, he disappeared with a pop.

----------------------------------------------------

Draco watched quietly as Hermione wailed into the phone she'd found on the dresser (although the Malfoys did not like Muggles; they'd found it to be an excellent device to use for security measures; no wizard would check _phone_ conversations!). She was screaming and ranting and going absolutely insane. He wondered if she was bothering Potter or Weasley. Probably Potter. Always did seem to fancy him, didn't she?

"Just hurry up," she screeched. "And I don't want to hear a lecture. Who's dating that buffoon of a girl? What? You've got a _new_ one now? You go through them like candy, Harry! Oh, _shut up_, you!"

He had to laugh. Of course Potter would have many a girlfriend; who wouldn't want to date some rich and not elfish (although he couldn't say that Potter wasn't dwarfish) boy who also happened to be a part-time professional Quidditch player and had a leading role as an Auror in the ministry?

It wasn't fair that Potter had amounted to "so much", as other people said. Potter was a cretin.

"Go take a shower," Hermione said, snapping her attention to him.

"What? Afraid your … body fluids will stay on me?" he asked seriously.

"Go to hell, Malfoy," she said, gritting her teeth.

"I'm already here," he replied with a smirk, and walked amicably over to the luxurious bathroom.

Hermione sat down on the big burgundy couch in the room and picked at her toenails absentmindedly. She checked her watch. She'd been married for probably nine hours. Nine hours, seven of which she could not and did not want to remember. But they had to get a divorce—immediately. The only way to do that was obviously to find out where they'd been married; however, neither she nor Draco had figured this out as of yet.

Hermione stared out the window and contemplated suicide. Right now it seemed the easiest way out of this mess, wasn't it? No, better yet, throw Malfoy out the window—then all would be resolved. Then her life could go back to being perfect!

A house-elf seemed to visualize right in front of her eyes. The poor thing looked sodden and creepy all at once as it announced in a ghostly voice, "A Harry Potter here to see you, madam."

"Well, where is he?" she said, refraining from baring her teeth at the poor thing.

Harry stepped in and grinned. "You're dismissed, Lola," he said, waving at the house-elf. It wallowed into the ground, at least in Hermione's currently un-observant eyes.

"Hermione Jane Granger," Harry scolded. "Or, wait? Wait a minute, you're not Hermione Jane Granger anymore! You're Hermione Granger Malfoy!"

"Go fuck your broom, Harry," Hermione snapped.

"Wow, there, he's corrupted you in, what, eight hours? I'm surprised you gave in so easily," Harry teased lightly.

"I'm surprised you seem to be taking his side," Hermione peeved. "I called you here to help me out with this crazy mess, not make it worse!"

"All right, all right," Harry said, throwing his hands up in the air. "Where's the lucky husband?"

"Harry!" she growled.

"Goodness, he must really like it when you do that little growl thing you've got going," Harry said amiably.

Before Hermione could respond with what was sure to be an absolutely rip-to-shreds comment, the master of evil himself stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed and wet hair dripping in his eyes.

"Why, yes, Potter," he drawled, "she did do that last night, although that's not the part where I got a little scared," he said, looking pointedly at Hermione.

She suddenly felt very ashamed. What had she done for Malfoy to be talking like… like she was a pornography star or something?!

"Aw, I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry soothed gently, moving over to her and patting her on the back. "It's just that you don't screw up very often, and this is a very big mistake. It's so serious that I have to be treating it lightly otherwise I'd probably end up Avada'ing Malfoy and sending you off to some grandmother who would watch you very, very carefully."

Draco snorted. Hermione groaned. Harry smiled.

"Now let's get this mess sorted out," he continued, suddenly business-like. "Where do you two think you got married?"

Hermione felt a little riled up at this Harry-taking-charge-of-her-situation deal, but Malfoy was far worse. "No, Potter," he barked. "This is my mess and so be it if it involves your whore, it does not involve you! Leave! Get out of my house!"

"Do not call her a whore!" Harry yelled.

"Stop it," Hermione sighed. "I don't care if he calls me a whore; right now he's actually insulting himself. And Harry, he's right. Thanks for dropping by with emotional support, I'm really grateful. But this is our mess and we are going to deal with it. Don't worry, I'll be divorced by this evening, latest, and we can put this thing behind us." In the last line she glared at Malfoy.

He shrugged. "It isn't my fault we got married," he said. "In fact I bet if I remembered anything it would've been you that suggested it. Women are into this whole 'marriage' deal. I wanted to remain a bachelor for another five years, thank you."

"Oh, look, Malfoy's saying thank you," Hermione said, rolling her eyes and turning back to Harry. "Got it?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, I see. Well, call me Hermione, this afternoon; I want to know exactly what happens. Oh, and congratulations. I wish you the best of luck on your honeymoon…."

"Damn it, Potter," Draco and Hermione growled together. "Get out."

He left and the two of them were in the same room, staring at each other with deep dislike. "I'm hungry," Hermione finally said. "It's already ten."

"So go eat," Draco replied coldly.

"Well, I don't know where my purse is, yet another one of my many, many worries today…not to mention the clothes I wore last night, not to mention that you have a kitchen with plenty of food, and not to mention that this is now my house!" she finished triumphantly.

"It is not your house, Granger, never say it is!" he shouted back.

"Oh, what's that? Calling your wife 'Granger'? Uh-uh-uh… I think it's Malfoy and Malfoy now, isn't it?" Hermione asked sweetly; even though she hated it herself, it was still fun to rile Malfoy up about the same thing.

"Oh, shut your damn mouth," he scorned and walked out of the room. "If you're hungry, _Hermione Malfoy_, then I suppose you'll have to eat what we have. Please don't contaminate it."

"Well, _dear husband_, I suppose it will have to do even though I'm sure that even the house-elves do not touch your food," she retorted angrily as she followed him down the spiraled staircases and halls of angry-looking portraits and expensive art (Damn, she was going to have to come back here sometime and really look at these! They were awfully nice!)

"_Wife_, here is the dining room," he snapped. "Help yourself. I shall be reading my newspaper and also try to rack my brain for some memory of the hellhole in which we made the biggest mistake of our lives. I recommend you do the same." With that he picked up his newspaper, grabbed a banana off the glass breakfast table (it was so pretty, Hermione thought to herself), and stomped into the nearby drawing room, where Hermione could hear him turn the pages of the paper. Now that was a very annoying noise.

Hermione wandered round the kitchen and looked for a sign of a refrigerator, but it seemed like the Malfoys didn't have one. "Breakfast," she said out loud. "I need breakfast." As if that was a password or something a house-elf appeared on cue and in its hand brought a steaming plate of gorgeous looking breakfast food.

"Cereal," she said, feeling bored. The plate disappeared and in its place were a bowl, some milk, cereal, and a spoon big enough to feed all of the house-elves.  Interesting. Hermione had long since given up on S.P.E.W. but the Malfoys house-elves seemed as if they were the worst off of the lot. 

  
She ate her cereal slowly, trying to do exactly what Malfoy had asked: remember the 'hellhole at which they had committed the biggest mistakes of their lives'.

Hermione began to laugh at the situation. "I can't believe this," she called to Malfoy. "When you were in seventh year would you have ever imagined waking up married to me?"

"No, if I had imagined that I would term it not even nightmare, but hellish disaster," he called back cheerfully.

"Oh, you vile, horrid…" she trailed off, scowling at his back.

"Funny," he replied lightly. "You said the same thing last night, only with a whole lot more giggling."

She threw her spoon at him.

A/N: Well, there it is… it's the best I could do at the moment. Any ideas? Feel free to tell me. Oh, and a reader pointed out something I found important, so listen up! I did use 'fuck' a lot in the first chapter; I felt there was enough circumstance for it. This chapter's got a lot of 'obscenity' as well—this reader said I ought not to use that much of the f-word. 

Well, I'm going to be using it, but my question is this: should I bump the rating of this piece to R? I am willing to do so, but originally I thought it would fit alright under PG13. Well, please tell me your opinion… R or PG13? I need to know so please review, tell me what you thought of the chapter, and what the rating of this story should be! Thanks. 


	3. Disturbing Memories

Rise and Die! 3

Important: Okay, so I got slightly more requests for PG-13, but I did get a lot of recommendations to bump this fic up to an "R" rating. I understand if you no longer want to read this, but this fic is really PG-15 or PG-16; I'm NOT moving it to R as of YET, but I PROBABLY WILL in the future, depending on how this goes. There IS swearing in this fic; if you have a problem with that, then please don't read any further! (I'm adding this to chapter 1 as well). 

Although I do not have copious amounts of the f-word and stuff, I think that under the circumstances and based on my group of friends and such, they WILL be cursing. So, watch out! Anyway, if you're still here, fantastic, and on with the story.

Hermione gathered her things, at least what she could find (so far she had discovered shoes that looked slightly like her own, perhaps paler, sitting in the front foyer), and got ready to depart. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and just wanted to put this off. 

Unfortunately Draco wasn't a procrastinator under any circumstances. "Hermione," he barked, "we need to see my parents. Right now. And I need to call Sally Anne."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Correction, _you_ need to see your parents. I'm going home; I don't care about what _your_ parents think of _your_ inability to hold _your_ liquor."

"It takes two to tango, _my love_," he responded with a smirk. Oh, how she wanted to pummel his sorry little face with that awful pointed nose right into the ground!

"Why do you need to see your parents anyway?" she asked exasperatedly. "And is dear Sally Anne the woman you happened to be engaged to?" Hermione in all honesty could not care less about the state of his personal affairs, the little unmentionable that he was. Well, perhaps a bit, but not much at all. 

"If you must be ever so inquisitive—" he began.

"Only because I am your wife—"

"—I shall tell you only because I never want to hear your annoying voi—"

"—Filthy fool; I'm leaving now and I don't care about your parents or slutty old Sall—"

"She is not slutty! What are you talking about? I haven't even slept with the wench yet!"

"The wench? Do I detect another emotion besides love in this picture?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! Please go die!"

"Grow up, grow up, grow up! Can't you come up with a better insult than that, husband dearest?" Hermione shot back in fury. This was not the time for a heated verbal battle; all she wanted to do was take copious amounts of a dreamless sleep potion and sleep for all eternity. Never have to face this mess again. How perfect that would be.

His eyes narrowed and he glared ferociously at her. "Well then stop asking me stupid questions about my personal life, okay? Yeah, Sally Anne is my fiancée, and my parents are needed, because, you idiot, purebloods _aren't_ allowed to get divorced!" he yelled.

Intense quiet followed his little outburst. "Oh," Hermione said meekly, and then anger bubbled up within her. "Excuse me? Why was this not mentioned earlier? All morning you've led me to believe that we're going to go look for the damn chapel in which we professed love to each other and now you tell me that it's illegal for you to get divorced?!"

He smirked. "Hey, always fun to play around."

"Go die," she fumed.

"Oh, Hermione, can't you come up with a better insult than that, wife dearest?" he taunted, repeating her very words.

She did not say anything, but was sure that by the way her nostrils were flaring right now, he was quite aware of the immense state of anger she was currently in.

"Oh, another thing," he said lightly, "polygamy isn't illegal. How would you like to be my concubine, oh, excuse me, second wife? I'll feed you three times a week."

She ground her teeth and clenched her fists in order to keep from hitting him. Although it pained her to think it she had to admit the bugger was indeed much stronger than she was and if she lifted a finger against him she was sure he would waste no time in knocking the wind out of her. "Actually," she scowled, "pureblooded polygamy was indeed made illegal in 1902, when Blosvik the Blasphemer took his three hundredth wife and there weren't enough purebloods to go around for the rest of them."

Draco frowned; he apparently hadn't expected her to know that tidbit of knowledge. "If you know that, then how come you forgot that pureblooded ancient families such as mine are not allowed to be divorced?"

Hermione refrained from hitting him again. Mocking her knowledge, was he? Oh damn him to hell! "Because," she said patronizingly. "I have been in a huge state of shock. I was, to put it bluntly, not really thinking."

"Well, obviously," he countered. "Are you ever thinking? You sure weren't thinking when you tried to give me head at three a.m. last night!"

She slapped him.

And went home with a quick pop, quite promptly.

Luckily she had found her wand in one of the Malfoys numerous closets; she shuddered to know how it had gotten there. Best not to wonder anyhow. She entered her flat, and somehow it seemed different…things had changed in a most unexpected and horrid fashion in the last fourteen hours. This was absolutely awful. She could not believe that she had given herself up to Malfoy, the bloody git. He did not deserve her virginity; for goodness' sake she still hated him! How could she have _done_ this?

But she wasn't an idiot; she knew that however embarrassing it was, it was best just to use a pensieve and find out the truth, no matter how gruesome or unappetizing it turned out to be. So with a small sigh she dipped her wand into the silvery substance and prepared herself for the worst. She dismally remembered that this would tell them at what chapel they got married; however, that was a dud now that Draco had oh-so-kindly reminded her that he wasn't exactly in a situation where he could get divorced.

She pushed the thought away; there had to be some escape from this. She was bloody brilliant Hermione, she would come up with a plan that would save them from this misery. Oh yes she would. 

With a jolt she found herself in El Coconut, the snazzy new bar that she knew she was never going to set foot in again. Oh, there she was… who had she gone with? Oh yes, just some friends from her work as a researcher, there they were in a corner…yikes, she was heading over to the bartender. Uh-oh. She had _not_ just flirted with that bar-tender, for goodness sake the man wasn't even remotely attractive!

Sadly she observed herself ordering drinks, and that was when she first noticed the blonde idiot sitting on the stool next to her. "Hallo," she heard herself saying.

"Hey," he replied. "Oh, do you happen to have a band-aid because I hurt my knee when I fell for you."

Oh no-no-no-no-no-no-no. If he had won her over with a line like that then… then…wow, that was an extreme drop of self-esteem and confidence. She had to refute it… but oh no, what if she hadn't?

Her previous self smirked and shook her head. "Get some new lines," she giggled. 

He shrugged. "Never works, but it got your attention anyway. The name's Draco Malfoy, and you?"

A frown crossed her previous self and she shook her head, evidently confused and remembering something that the alcohol struggled to block. "Oh," she finally said. "I'm Hermione Granger."

Obviously alcohol had impeded his judgment as well. Damn him! Damn him damn him damn him!

After a round of drinks (okay, three rounds of drinks) the two had decided to exit the building. As they were walking out, they linked arms (she shuddered as she watched with complete distaste) and (oh, horror of horrors!) leaned on one another as well. "A bit tipsy," Hermione joked.

Previous Draco was slurring his words slightly. "Me too! Hey do you want to do something fun?"

Ah-ha, Hermione thought venomously, it had been him that had come up the idea! Wait till he heard about this! 

"Like what?" previous Hermione giggled. Enough with the giggling, outraged watching Hermione growled miserably.

She so had him; wait till he said the inevitable; wait till…oh she was going to rub this in his face till it hurt him. He was really going to pay for this one. Fucking devil.

"I don't know," he replied with a half-laugh. 

"Let's do something _soo_ wild," she stressed. "Like, oh, I know, let's get married! Haha, wouldn't that be so much fun! We can wear cool rings and be in that you know, that bliss that married people get!"

Watching Hermione was stunned. Well, then, drop that whole rubbing-it-in-his-face idea that she'd come up with. Perhaps she just wouldn't mention that she'd used a pensieve. 

Unfortunately, she knew how the rest of the night turned out. She stumbled as she followed them through their hunt for a chapel; oh, they'd finally found one near the corner of Birmingham Street and Chester Road. She committed the place to memory although she had no inclination of ever stepping into it again. As she followed them in, she looked unhappily at the seedy décor, the grinning priest standing a few feet away.

Somehow Draco came up with two rings; she expected he'd transfigured them from pocket lint or something of the sort, and a few minutes later they were together until "Death do you part."

If only she'd known how literal that would turn out to be.

Watching the kiss, Hermione thought miserably, was like watching herself die. She could not believe she was seeing it, but it was true, her lips had actually glued themselves to his in a disgusting manner, and it was a long one too. The priest looked very pleased as he watched. Hermione fought the urge to at least attempt to disembowel him.

As they stepped out into the cool air, Draco suggested they go to his place. "Come on, it's where you live now," he laughed. "Ready to hit the sheets?"

She mock-slapped his arm. "Don't be crude," she teased. "Anyhow, let's go."

Well at least she had some decency at that moment, the watching Hermione consoled herself. She found herself apparating, and soon all three of them, although two were quite oblivious, were at the Malfoy manor. She noticed that she ran around looking into all of the Malfoys' closets (well, that explained quite a bit, such as how her wand had ended up in the third from the right in the sixteenth corridor to the left closet). After depositing her stuff here and there (Hermione made a mental note to go back and retrieve it all; hopefully her memory would not fail her), they headed up to the Malfoys' guest bedroom.

Hermione shut her eyes. Was she ready to see this? She most emphatically didn't want to, but curiosity got the better of her. She bitterly remembered the saying, "curiosity killed the cat." Well…in this case curiosity could make her pregnant. Fantastic.

Half-unwillingly half-willingly she forced her eyes opened and saw herself kissing the git. Kissing, okay, that was still…all right, she supposed, not awful. Uh-oh. It had escalated to a little more than kissing, a little messing around here and there…

Okay, so a lot of messing around, nothing in which she could… hold it…

They were done messing around. He switched off the lights and apparently the booze had taken its toll on them because they had both fallen asleep.

She was going to kill Draco, the liar! How dare he make her believe that she had done some awful, wild stuff? They hadn't even slept together! Just messed around, which somehow she felt that she'd be able to handle.

Oh, that awful little son of a bitch was really in for it.

She was going to kill him!

A/N: Yeah, I sort of left the "messing around" bit as vague because I don't think I'm particularly apt at writing smut, and that would definitely guarantee that R rating! Anyway, use your imagination, seriously, like stuff that comes before actual sex and all that jazz. What you do with your significant other ;) Anyway, finally updated this thing, hope you all liked it. By the way the Sally Anne that is referred to is the same Sally Anne Perks that was assigned to Slytherin in the 1st book. You'll find out more about this later! Anyway, thanks and please review. 


	4. Malfoy to Malfoy

Rise and Die! Chapter 4

A/N: I am soo sorry for the long wait. I hope this chapter isn't too crappy but we'll see. Once again this fic is really PG-15 or something so, yeah, read at your own risk…so please all little kids don't read it!

Draco shivered in fear. As soon as his _wife_ had departed, he was faced with a terrible prospect: informing his parents. He felt himself go pale with fear and it was becoming harder to walk towards his door. They only lived a few blocks away in a secluded area, surrounded by a forest. Although he wasn't a mama's boy or anything despicable like that, his mother did have quite a bit of control over him and she exercised it when he bought his own house. He had to live in close proximity.

Draco regretted this decision most emphatically.

He was a prominent figure in wizarding society, because his father was so important. And Hermione Granger, his new wife? He hated to admit it, but she was probably even more well-known than he was, with her extraordinary career and her stupid best friend Potter.

There was no way that this could be kept quiet, and if he didn't tell the elder Malfoys himself, he knew his parents would not hesitate to do something drastic. He only hoped it wouldn't be something too horrific, like castration.

But you never knew. There was nobody in his family that dared disobey the Pureblood laws (well except for his great-uncle, but he didn't count, it was absolute suicide if you dared mention him) and he didn't quite know the punishment.

So sighing in desperation, he Apparated himself over to the real Malfoy mansion, belonging to a certain Lucius Malfoy and his beautiful yet terrifying (and Draco was undoubtedly scared of his mother) wife Narcissa Black Malfoy. He apparated into familiar territory, namely his room, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no one about.

Perhaps, if he was lucky, they'd gone out for a bit. Diagon Alley, maybe? "Draco," he heard a cold voice behind him.

No such luck. Swinging around he came face to face with his mother. "Hello, Mother," he said warmly and trying to keep that quiver of fear out of his voice. No, he was strong, he could do this. Pretend it's Granger, he thought. Pretend you're just being civil towards her…

"I am aware that you have done something or the other which will displease me greatly," Narcissa frowned, cutting straight to the point. "Out with it!"

Draco gulped. "Er, mother…" just at that moment he heard a familiar voice echoing in the halls. "Is Sally Anne here?" he asked in confusion.

"Yes, she stopped by to make wedding arrangements with me. Your marriage is in three weeks; I should think it would be the first thing on your mind!" she chided. "Just like your father! He is most unresponsive about this wedding! Just this morning I asked him whether he wished to invite the Baddocks and he didn't even give me a clear-cut answer! _Men!_"

Draco listened meekly to his mother's vehement rant, but cheered up at the thought of his father also not really supporting this marriage. Then again, Lucius was clearly under Narcissa's reign; outside of the house, he was a bold and important public figure, but the boss of the Malfoy mansion was definitely Narcissa. But perhaps Lucius would understand, just a little… fat chance! Lucius hated mudbloods!

"Draco, have you heard a word I've said?" Narcissa scolded. "I want to know exactly what you've been up to and don't you leave a single detail out. Blinky, I need a scotch," she exhaled loudly and apparated into one of the dens. Draco followed miserably.

The house-elf did her bidding and Draco nervously thought of ways to make the incident with Granger seem less heinous. Nope, nothing came to mind. "Well, you see, mother," he finally just said, "I, er, got married."

His mother dropped the glass, scotch and all.

Well, that hadn't been the nicest of reactions. "Heh, well, I must go, my wife's expecting me!" he stood hurriedly and wondered if he could escape before his mother recovered from her immediate shock.

Oops, too late, she was ready to talk. "Married!" she gasped. "But I thought… you and Sally Anne wanted a proper wedding! Wherever did you two tie the knot?"

_Oh no!_ This was going to be much, much, much worse than he expected. "Um, see, that's the thing, Mother, I didn't, er, well, I didn't quite marry Sally Anne as expected."

The color drained out of her already pale cheeks. "Please call your father," she raggedly whispered. "Can't handle this crisis without him…"

As if on cue, a house-elf appeared out of the woodwork and immediately carried out her request. A few minutes later the regal looking Lucius Malfoy strolled into the den. "Whatever is the matter?" he asked concernedly when he saw his wife's state.

Draco closed his eyes, wishing the situation away.

No luck. "Well, erm, father… mother's had a bit of a shock, you see," he started lamely.

"Lucius!" Narcissa wailed, pointing a finger at her son. "Your son's gone and married some other wench! He got married!"

Lucius gasped. "Draco!" he muttered in shock, looking most perturbed. "Whoever did you wed?!"

Oh, dear, and he thought all of the above had been difficult! This was going to be absolutely excruciating… "An… old schoolmate," he replied ambiguously.

"Oh, it doesn't matter who he's gone and married!" Narcissa cried. "You know he can't get a divorce! And he's bound to this woman for life! What will I tell the Perks? What will I tell your poor fiancée Sally Anne who is at this moment downstairs poring over wedding dress catalogues? See what you've done!"

Lucius, however, still persisted. "Who have you married?" he asked.

Was that just his imagination, or was that danger in his father's voice? Draco didn't want to know, but he knew he couldn't postpone it any longer. Taking a deep breath, he spat out the name quickly as if it were acid on his tongue. "hermionegranger."

"I didn't quite catch that," his mother scowled. "Slowly now! I can't believe it. All these years we spent money on lessons and you can't even enunciate your words properly! Draco, I don't want to be disappointed in my only chi—"

"Her-my-own-knee Gran-ger," Draco said slowly, emphasizing the syllables.

His parents froze. "That girl who you always complained about during the holidays?" his mother asked, at the same time his father incredulously asked, "The mudblood?"

Draco inspected his fingernails. It was best not to say anything right now.

"But why?" his mother finally moaned.

Draco took a deep breath. "Believe me, mother, father, I absolutely cannot stand the witch. It just so happened that we were both heavily under the influence of alcohol, and, er, I don't really recall much of the night but I think one of us had the wild idea to get married, and, um, it happened?" He hadn't meant for it to sound like a question, but it just did. He couldn't help that squeak of fear in his voice, of denial, and of utmost horror.

"Bloody hell," his father sighed. "Oh, bloody hell. How many times have I told you that you have a low alcohol tolerance, just like your uncle! Silly boy!"

"I cannot believe this," his mother cried, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. "I simply cannot believe this. Draco, this is absolutely ridiculous! Absolutely! Blinky, another scotch!"

"You've disappointed us, son," Lucius said coldly, sitting down with his wife and doing his best to console her. "It's best you simply leave your mother for a while, see how you've upset her? Now go, go to your little mudblood _wife_ and give us a little time to cool off." Every word that Lucius spoke shook mercilessly with a cool, imperturbable anger.

Draco stepped out of the room in shock. No curses sent his way? No Death Eaters (although they only met for bridge on Saturdays since Voldemort had been killed by Potter) sent after him? No torture rack in the dungeons?

Oh dear. This was so much worse.

-------------------------------------------------------

Hermione waited impatiently outside of Malfoy's house. Stupid man. How could he not be home, when she needed to kill him? Goodness! Where would he have to go anyway? He wasn't going to be working, it was a Saturday and for that matter she doubted he worked anyway. With parents as rich as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy…

She tapped her foot in annoyance. Where in Merlin was he? And why was he taking so long? She'd already waited half-an-hour!

Finally after what seemed ages a very sullen looking Malfoy walked up to his door. He looked really surprised to see her. "What are you doing here?" he asked in amazement, and Hermione noticed no malice in his voice. He looked too tired to be ridiculously mean as always.

"I'm here to kill you!" she shouted melodramatically, and then sighed. "You are in so much trouble," she continued angrily. "How dare you lie! How dare you, you foul little maggot!"

He shrugged and walked into his house. Hermione followed, close behind, still yelling. "I cannot believe you would be so crude and horrible towards a lady such as myself! You are the most vile creature on this planet! I am absolutely appalled at your behav—"

"Just drop it, Granger," he sighed and sat down forlornly on his sofa.

Hermione shut her mouth abruptly. Well, this was no fun at all! Where was that response she was looking forward to? That heated verbal sparring? She couldn't believe that the wanker had no response whatsoever!

"That's rich!" she yelled. "Just drop it? Drop it? Excuse me! You purposely lied about our…activities…last night, and now you tell me to just drop it! You horrible little… ooh," she clenched her fists in rage.

He still didn't say anything, only looked at his feet in despair.

"Malfoy," she finally asked. "What's wrong with you?"

He exhaled loudly. "I just told my parents."

"And they didn't take it well?" she probed. Well, obviously they hadn't, judging by his expression. He looked like he'd barely escaped a Dementor or something. Then again, he probably had uncles that were Dementors, she thought darkly… no, there was no time for old school judgments. Right now there were more things to hate him about.

"Not at all, not at all. I know they were—are—incredibly upset, but I'm shocked they… didn't do anything worse. The only thing… my father just told me to get out."

She gasped. "Are they disowning you?"

He started in shock. "Disown me!" he cried. "Oh, I didn't even think of that! Shit? What if they do?!"

Hermione panicked. She hadn't meant to upset him—okay, well, the whole reason she was here was to upset him—but now that she had, she somehow felt rather guilty about it. It wasn't really that fun in his very fragile state. "Calm down; I'm sure if the idea didn't occur to you, it didn't occur to them," she soothed in the best mean way she had.

Well, she didn't want to be too nice. She was still disturbingly angry with him.

"Oh, they might! There's a Malfoy family rumor that a cousin of mine a few times remove was disowned just forty-five years ago! What if I'm the next family secret?" he moaned. "Damn it! I won't get any inheritance either!"

Hermione pursed her lips. "There's more to family than inheritance," she scolded.

"Just stop," he howled. "You are so similar to my mother… and she's the last person I need to think about right now! Oh God! Get me a screwdriver, please," he cried.

"A screwdriver? I didn't even know wizards had such tools," Hermione replied, puzzled. "Well… where can I find one?"

He looked blank for a moment. "In the kitchen? Spritzy will make it for you… hell, she'll give it to me, can't you just go tell her?"

Hermione in a sudden burst of inspiration understood what he was talking about. "Oh, you mean the drink! Honestly, Draco, I don't think it's a good idea to consume alcohol right now," she warned.

"I. Don't. Bloody. Care." He replied coldly. "Now."

She scuttled off, furious because she was actually listening to him. But he looked just so distressed and it went absolutely against her nature to ignore someone in his current state, even if it was Malfoy. She'd help him through the crisis and when she made sure he escaped unscathed, she'd hurt him herself. There. That sounded good.

Anyway, she didn't want anyone else to torture him. That was _her_ job!

Quickly she returned with the orange juice and vodka drink and handed it to him. He took it, his hands slightly shaking, and gulped it down. "Much better," he finally remarked, although she knew he was still very much disconcerted.

"Have you talked to Sally Anne yet?" she finally asked.

"No," he shook his head, "my mother will tell her, I know. It doesn't matter anyway. I don't love her."

Hermione was taken aback, and so was Draco. "I can't believe I just said that!" he cried. "Stupid tension getting to my head. Fuck, Granger, if you tell anyone, I'll… you just watch out, because you'll be in for a nasty surprise."

"I won't tell anyone," she promised half-heartedly, although it was a juicy bit of news. Too bad it didn't really matter whether he loved her or not… because the way things were looking, with these silly Pureblood laws and stuff… she was going to be stuck with him for a while.

A/N: Yay! I finished another chapter. Well, a lot of stuff happened in it, tell me what you think, as usual. Thanks a million for the brilliant reviews. Speaking of, review, review, review like the wind!


	5. At the Grangers'

Rise and Die! Chapter 5

Quick A/N: So I'm one of the few people on ff.net that really doesn't think that Lucius physically harms his son. I got a lot of "why didn't Lucius beat Draco up?" Okay, well, here's the deal: he's not a good guy, but I think of the Malfoys as a family. They're obviously not normal, but surely Draco loves his parents.

In the books, he seems pretty happy at school and hey we know he looks up to daddy dearest. I'm not saying I don't like fanfics that make him out to be like, evil incarnate (and he IS bad, I know, and in fact, I love a lot of those stories), but what I am saying is that Lucius is not going to go on a murderous rampage and try to kill Draco or Hermione. He may be terribly displeased and have some not so good things up his sleeve (and I do think he's a hateful guy), but he isn't physically going to hurt anyone. As for Narcissa, I always pictured her as a "snotty upscale housewife" in the words of one of my reviewers, so that's the way she's going to be. And I think that Lucius probably loves Narcissa. Hey, if you can speculate him beating them up and raping her and stuff, you can speculate good things too, right? Of course I think Lucius is an evil bastard to Harry, Ron, and Hermione (I never said he'd be nice!), but he's got to act differently towards his son.

Bottom line: If you think Lucius and Narcissa are OOC in the way I've characterized them, then, I'm sorry, but this fic will feature Lucius and Narcissa being OOC. Sorry!!!

STORY:

Hermione had probed her new husband quite a bit on the reactions of his parents and had been horrified. What if her parents reacted that way?!

Then again, she wasn't engaged, she didn't have any "must marry a muggle!" rules, and her parents were generally the understanding sort of people. She smiled, appreciating them in a whole new light and stretched out on the bed, waking up fully.

Last night she had gotten home late, having spent most of her day at Malfoy manor, doing her best to console and insult Malfoy all at once. She glanced at her clock and frowned. She'd slept in again; it was already nine. Thank goodness it was a Sunday. One more day to worry entirely about this bizarre and most disconcerting turn of events (namely, her marriage) before she had to concentrate on other things such as her career. Oh, God. She'd been married to the git of all gits since Friday night! Horror of horrors!

She could just imagine what she'd tell her colleagues at work (and Hermione happened to be the head of the small but efficient research company in inventing new potions). "So, Hermione," Maureen, her secretary, would ask. "How was the weekend? Do anything special?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione would reply with a small smile. "I got married, actually."

"Married!" Maureen would gasp. "B-but…I never knew! Was it a small wedding?" she'd ask, not saying anything but the shock of not being invited would be evident on her face.

"Oh, no," Hermione would assure her, and Maureen's face would drop in disappointment, hurt that she hadn't been invited, until Hermione continued boldly... "There were no guests at all!"

Maureen would look up immediately, curious. "No guests?" she'd echo. "Hermione, you eloped, didn't you! You sly, sly girl! Who's the lucky man?" she'd gush.

Hermione would pinch her lips tightly and shake her head. "No, didn't elope…and the lucky man is actually a sodding git, and old school nemesis to boot… you might've heard of him. He's actually rather well-known in the wizarding world."

Maureen's face would be different hues of confusion. "But if you didn't like him, why would you marry him?" she'd ask. "And who is it?!"

Hermione would take a deep breath and sigh. "I married him because I was stone pissed, and so was he. And this 'he' that I am referring to is actually that pureblooded snotty little maggot Draco Malfoy."

Maureen would gasp. _"He's not single anymore?!?!"_

Oh no no no no no, Hermione shook her head firmly, bringing herself back to the present. That would _not_ do at all. What was she going to tell people? How was she going to explain this… this horrible thing!

But first off, she thought miserably, getting up and stepping into the shower, she had to tell her parents. What a lot of fun that would be. Perhaps she'd take Malfoy with her, make him suffer a bit…

Twenty minutes later Hermione was dressed and ready to go. She gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror before departing, and made sure her appearance was really rather good. She looked like she was heading off to work, pretty much, except her clothes were slightly more casual. She just hoped her mother would approve; the woman was bent on things like summer dresses and flipping, flopping sandals (highly impractical things, Hermione thought with disdain as she shuffled her feet).

Another two minutes and she'd apparated right outside of Malfoy's huge and impractical (albeit gorgeous) mansion and waited for him to open the door. Finally after what seemed hours he threw it open.

"You!" he churned out, looking most annoyed to see her.

"Hmm, yes, me," Hermione responded cheerfully. She was not going to let this git get to her she was not going to let him get to her no she wasn't "Just let me in already, you snotrag!"

Well.

So much for the let's-be-civilized-about-this-approach.

He smirked. "I'm sorry, Granger, but I don't generally open my home to those who call me a 'snotrag'."

She breathed deeply, to calm her frayed nerves. "I think it is an exception," and her voice rose higher the angrier she got, "in the case that I am your bloody wife you absolute prat!"

"You know," he continued in that same cocky manner (apparently he'd recovered well from yesterday's shock), "some people find dirty language to be a huge turn on. But I'm sorry, _darling_; I'm not in the mood for sex."

She rolled her eyes. "You little ferret. Anyhow, in fact there is no need for me to come in after all, instead you will be coming out." And with that she yanked his hand and pulled him out of the door. He scowled fiercely, his grey eyes turned steel with anger and he was about to say something when she grabbed his hand and hoped for the best.

She wasn't that good at double apparition, but she hoped they both made it…

It was all over in a moment and she cautiously opened her eyes and checked for body parts. All there, good. Quickly she turned over to her husband (and the feeling of disgust that went with that word!) and was relieved to find that he, too, was all in one piece, although he did look very murderous.

"What have you done?" he asked, his voice dipping low. Now Hermione didn't really know Draco Malfoy all that well, but she figured out that the angrier he got the quieter he got. Uh-oh.

"Um," she replied bravely, "this is Stonegate street…and that over there is, um, my parents' house."

He did not even glance in the direction she pointed. "You brought me to your muggle parents' house?" he said incredulously. "I cannot believe this! You wench! How dare you. I'm leaving right bloody now!"

"No, no you're not," she shushed him. "In order to apparate away from somewhere you've got to know where you are and honestly you have no idea what part of England this is, and for that matter, I'm not going to tell you until you've completed your task here with me."

"Task?" he sputtered, still seething with anger.

"Task," she repeated firmly and marched up to the lovely cream stucco double story house that she had fond memories of. She knocked the knocker a few times and waited, and soon the door was opened up by a very familiar face.

"Mum!" she cried happily.

"Darling!" her mother replied just as enthusiastically, pulling her daughter into a hug.

Only when Hermione pulled away did she remember Draco. She turned to look at him and saw that of course he had a scowl on his face. Stupid git. Her mother noticed him at the same time and gave Hermione an ooh-who-is-that-young-man-tease-tease sort of look. Hermione frowned and pulled Draco inside; although he did resist quite a bit she managed to finally get him in the door.

"Mum, where's dad?" she asked, hoping her father was home. She knew she had to explain this mess to the two of them while they were together, should they need to lean on each other for support or something (oh, Merlin forbid!).

"I'm right here, sweetie!" her father entered the conversation loudly, emerging from his study. "It's wonderful to see you again!"

After the quick hugs that the Granger family exchanged they all made their way to the kitchen, Hermione dragging Draco behind her. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and motioned for her parents to sit down.

"Mum, Dad," she began slowly, turning to face them both. "I've got something to tell you."

She glanced nervously at Draco who seemed most intent on looking at his hands. Damn him! Fat load of help he was; the horrid little cretin! "I'd like to introduce you to my…" she trailed off, meekly, and most unhappily. She really didn't want to say the word. It made it so final!

"Husband," interjected Draco. Hermione shot him a Look™.

"Yes," she finally continued. "Draco Malfoy. We got married over the weekend."

Her parents both gasped simultaneously. "Hermione…" her mother began. Hermione braced herself. "Did you say…you got married? You got married?"

She nodded.

For a second, there was silence. Hermione shifted uncomfortably. Then—

"DARLING!" her mother squealed. "That's absolutely wonderful! I've been waiting to hear this since… oh, since you were twenty-one! Lovely! Absolutely marvelous! Don't you think so, dear?" she asked excitedly, turning to face her husband.

He nodded. "Yes, Hermione dear, I think it's absolutely lovely that you got married. We'd always hoped you elope anyway, save us a bit of expense… only kidding, only kidding," he hastened at Hermione's glare. "So, young man, do tell us a bit about yourself."

Draco and Hermione could not say a word. They both gaped, open mouthed at Mr. and Mrs. Granger, unable to process what they were hearing. "You're not upset?" Hermione finally whispered. "I thought…you always said you wanted to plan…huge wedding…that sort of stuff you always said about marrying a nice boy you'd known for a while…none of that?"

"Of course, dearie, but what's important is that _you're happy_," her mother stressed.

"But I'm no—" Hermione started to whine, but was furious to find Draco's hand quickly clamped at her mouth.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he introduced himself in a suave manner. "Hermione and I both went to Hogwarts together."

"Really?" Mr. Granger began. "So you also have this magic business about you?"

Draco nodded proudly. Hermione fumed.

"So, tell me how you and Hermione got together," her mother gushed. "Hermione hasn't said a word about you to me! I don't know why; hey, Ted," she giggled, looking at her husband, "our Hermione's got a handsome one, hasn't she! Look at you, Draco! Hermione he's soo good-looking! Oh, I'm so happy for you dear!"

Oh please Merlin smite me down smite me down right now…Hermione thought despairingly. She was dead, she was dead, she was dead! Draco would never let this go. By gods she was so embarrassed all she wanted to do was melt into the floor. Hell she'd rather fight Voldemort again than go through this awful… oh, Merlin. There was no way to salvage the situation. She managed a watery smile.

Draco, once again, the blithering idiot, leapt to the "rescue". "Hermione and I weren't very good friends at school," he conceded, "but after we graduated, we met again recently in a bar…and I began to see what a _lovely_ witch she was…although, I must say, I wasn't quite interested in her at first, but… she began pursuing me (Hermione's mouth dropped open in outrage)…and with her extraordinary, er, courting talents, she won me over quite shortly."

"Y-y-ou…" Hermione sputtered, but swallowed her anger. Her parents still had those huge silly grins plastered on their faces, and Hermione decided it best not to ruin it for them just yet. "Look, Mum and Dad," she said desperately, "um, Draco and I have to go… er, furniture shopping for our new house, so we really must be off. I'll contact you later, mum, and tell you about the, um, sofas I've picked out."

Her mother smiled. "Look, Ted, our little girl's grown up."

Her father walked sternly over to Draco but he had a twinkle in his eye. "Son, you take good care of my daughter. She's my only one, so if anything goes wrong with her, there will be hell to pay!"

Draco nodded. "Of course, Mr. Granger," he replied courteously.

"None of this Mr. Granger business," Ted said as a goodbye, "please call me Ted. After all, you're family now!"

And with that, they were off.

Standing outside the driveway, Hermione was sure her face was quite red. She was absolutely mortified. She turned to see that Draco was smirking at her in a way she found absolutely irritating, but she couldn't even say anything… the last thing she wanted to do was start a conversation with the atrocious man right now; she knew she wouldn't hear the end of it.

He started it anyway. "So, dear wifey, I think that went… a bit better than expected, don't you think?"

"Shut up," she growled.

"In fact I would get the impression that you'd never brought home a boyfriend before. And then, for this lovely little surprise…I think your parents were getting a bit worried there, starting to doubt what side of the Quidditch pitch you flew on…but this set them right _straight_, didn't it? And I do think they rather liked me, but then again, I'm a modest fellow, I wouldn't know."

"Modest fellow?" Hermione repeated disbelievingly. "Excuse me? My arse you're modest! I can't believe you in there! Pretending that I was…_pursuing_ you! Pursuing you…you make me out to be some sort of…prostitute!" she finally spat out, her voice shrill with anger.

He only laughed.

She was absolutely infuriated. The smug little bastard! "And," he added suddenly, "your mother seemed thrilled that her daughter had snagged a 'handsome one'. I suppose I should take that as a compliment? Perhaps you think me rather good-looking too?" he asked gleefully. "Ooh, or maybe, your mum was just surprised that someone as… plain as her daughter…_do_ excuse me…would be able to get to someone of my excellent and most wonderful looks?"

That was it.

"Get home by yourself," she snapped, knowing full-well she hadn't told him where he was yet. And with that she left a very flustered and angry Draco behind.

A/N: Yay! Be proud of me! Another chapter out so quickly! Consider it my present to you people for that long month and a half wait. I can't believe I got it out so fast hehe, I can't get over that. As usual tell me what you thought, any improvements, anything you really liked, the whole shindig. I'm so glad a lot of you brought up that OOC question because I did some real pondering before I posted that huge author's note up top. I'm always open to suggestion...and with that, I'm out.


	6. Parents

Rise and Die! Chapter 6

Draco was left open-mouthed and then in three seconds, became very, very, very angry. Damn that woman! Damn her damn her damn her! How dare she leave him here? How dare she?

He looked around the muggle neighborhood in desperation. Nice suburban houses that looked pretty similar (all large and beautiful). Good gardens, a few pets outside, and of course… he looked up at the sky and saw it was about to rain. Of course. Of course that would happen.

Damn English weather…

A few minutes later, he was still standing there, completely drenched, sputtering, and mumbling curses directed at a woman who wasn't there. He hated her, the wench! How dare she leave him here! He looked around for any sign of where he was and found none. He could be anywhere. Any. Bloody. Where.

And then he got a brilliant idea. Granted, it wasn't exactly brilliant, but for someone who had been standing out in the pouring rain for a full five minutes, was completely soaked and bordering on insane, this was a fantastic idea. With a sprint he ran up to the Grangers' door and rang the doorbell.

Her mother opened it up. "Draco?" she questioned.

"Hi, Mrs. Granger," Draco smiled as warmly as he could muster, which was still a rather low-wattage smile because he was extremely upset at the moment.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped. "Well, never you mind, you're soaked, poor thing! Come in here instantly."

Draco obliged and stepped in, feeling very, very wet.

"I'll get you towels," Mrs. Granger promised and began to scurry away.

"No, it's okay… I'll just use a quick drying spell." Even as the words left his mouth, Draco cursed himself. And then cursed Hermione Granger because it was entirely her fault that he had forgotten he had a wand on him.

After performing said spell, Draco attempted to ask Mrs. Granger exactly where she was located, but she still fussed. "Oh, you look dry, but I'm sure you caught a cold. Please, have some tea."

"I'll pass," he insisted politely. "Seriously, I just wanted to know where…this is. I know, it's a very silly question, but, er, Hermione was so excited to show me off to you two that she neglected to tell me where this was… and now I can't get home."

Mrs. Granger looked perplexed. "That doesn't sound like Hermione at all," she mused. "That girl is just too kind for her own good; I tell you… she must really be in love with you to forget details! Hermione is very detail-oriented."

Draco winced and then promptly smiled on cue. "Oh, yes she is," he replied. "Er, so where are we?"

"Where is Hermione?" Mrs. Granger suddenly asked. "What's gotten into me today; that's the first thing I ought to have asked you! Where is she?"

"She went home," Draco muttered. Couldn't she just please tell him already? Honestly!

"Home?! But why are you still here?"

"Just a little quarrel," Draco brushed it off. "It's just… she wanted to go, um, yes, furniture shopping and I preferred to stay home… perhaps you are well acquainted with my wife's fiery temper?"

Mrs. Granger laughed. "You poor thing! She simply left you? The nerve! Why, have some crumpets, some scones… I feel absolutely terrible on her behalf. The way she's treating you… I'll have to have a word with her."

Draco's smile this time was quite genuine. "Yes, do," he grinned. "And I will have some crumpets. And scones."

So Draco sat down and enjoyed Mrs. Granger's cooking. Hermione could wait.

-------------------------------------------------------

Hermione stomped into her house, feeling enraged at Draco's cheek. "Honestly," she mumbled to herself, "The nerve of that boy… didn't his parents teach him any manners?"

"We did, actually."

Hermione shrieked and dropped her purse. Heart beat racing she turned around and came face to face with a blonde haired woman that Hermione instantly knew was Narcissa Malfoy.

"You scared me," Hermione stuttered. "Mrs. Malfoy."

"Please," Narcissa smirked. "Call me Narcissa."

I don't like this, Hermione thought. Draco, come here right now. Then of course there was that little matter of the whole she'd-left-him-there-thing. And even if he did manage to get home, he'd apparate to his own house, not hers.

"Look," she began uncomfortably, "I am most upset about this myself. Nobody is happy and it's all because of your damne—your pureblood laws."

"I know," Narcissa's eyes glittered. "Come along, Miss Granger, you've been invited to the Malfoy mansion."

"I'd really rather not," Hermione started, but it was too late. Narcissa had grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip and before she knew it she was in a formal sitting room in what she presumed was the Malfoy mansion.

"Blinky, get Lucius," Narcissa pointed to a house-elf cowering in the corner. Hermione immediately felt horribly angry, but decided that now was not the best time to advertise a society she had founded as a twelve-year-old.

The house-elf disappeared and Hermione pursed her lips. "Mrs. Malfoy—Narcissa…I have to be home. I don't see how any of this concerns me. You have your little divorce law and that's that. Now I must be gone."

"No, Miss Granger," Lucius entered with a nasty grin. "Oh, wait. Now you're the younger Mrs. Malfoy, correct?"

Hermione balled her fists in anger but didn't say anything.

Lucius glared at her. "We're under the impression that you, dear mudblood, are a researcher."

Hermione frowned. "Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Just wait," Narcissa scowled deeply. "Lucius and I believe there is no way for a pureblood to have a divorce, but we are going to do our best to try. We need you to research as well."

Hermione tapped her foot to portray annoyance, but in reality, she was thrilled. "There might be a way out?" she questioned.

"We don't know," Lucius looked very upset, "but if there is we are determined to find a loophole."

"Well, I suppose I'll help research… but I don't have any idea where to start," Hermione granted them.

Narcissa frowned. "We didn't give you a choice; you're going to research regardless of how you feel about it… and the best place to start is our library, isn't it, Lucius?"

"Yes, darling, of course… then again, you haven't set foot in it in years. However, dear mudblood—"

"The name," Hermione growled fiercely, "is Hermione. If you cannot possibly _bear_ to call me that, Mr. Malfoy, calling me by my last name should suffice."

Lucius spoke in a very silky voice. "I couldn't possibly bear to call you by your last name," he said softly, and then barked, "because it is Malfoy! MALFOY!" He seemed to lose it for a moment and then regained control of himself with a few shushes from Narcissa. "Very well. Hermione it is," he spat the name as if it were poison. "You will come by here at five every evening and research for at least two hours."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione protested. "I cannot possibly. I have thousands of things to do… first off, I don't even get off of work until six-thirty… and secondly, I am not researching for two hours. I am determined to make this a minor setback. My life will continue in the same fashion."

"Hermione," Narcissa smiled evilly, "Malfoy wives do not work."

"Another thing," Lucius added with a grin just as wicked, "You will definitely be living with our son. Shame enough that he has married a mudblood—we'll cut out at least a quarter of his inheritance, if not more—worse if she doesn't live with him. The fact that you two are not in love and did not have a perfectly wonderful, sober wedding will _not_ leak out to the press. You are under my orders to show to the public that you are in love and that means that you will be living with him!"

"You're okay with this?" Hermione asked incredulously, unable to comprehend the words she was hearing.

"Mudblood—oh excuse me, Hermione," although Lucius didn't look sorry at all, "It is less of a disgrace to the family name if my son has married a mudblood witch for love, rather than part of his act as a drunk man."

"So it's all about family name, then?" Hermione scowled fiercely. "That's ridiculous."

"Ridiculous as it may be," Narcissa said coldly, "That's the way it is. You're moving in. If you want I can send you some house-elves to help."

Lucius gave Narcissa a grade-A evil look, but she ignored it. Hermione frowned. "Can I have some human beings to help me? Paid human beings?"

Narcissa snorted. Lucius began with an "Ungrateful little—", but Narcissa cut him off. "If that's what you wish, preposterous as it is. I have three maids. Use _them_," she shot heatedly.

"I will," Hermione gave her a look of loathing. "Just have them apparate to my house. You apparently know where it is!"

Angrily she apparated home, still infuriated with Draco and his annoying family. What Narcissa and Lucius had proposed hadn't been all that bad or anything; it was just that their manner was horribly rude and it all boiled down to the fact that this was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

Shortly after the maids apparated to her house and together the three of them moved all of her treasured items (and some not-so-treasured items, like that horrendous lampshade that Ron had given her that she was just too sentimental about to throw away). The whole process took an even two hours, even with the aid of magic.

And Draco still hadn't appeared.

Now Hermione hated to admit it, but she did have a conscience and she was getting very, very worried. What if something had happened to him? He was a bit lost, of course, and what if he'd wandered down the wrong way and gotten into a brawl with some drunken man and something horrible had happened to him…

Much as she found him absolutely irritating, she didn't want him dead. She didn't want him dead at all.

Anxious she decided to just apparate back to her parents' house and see what had become of him. Perhaps he was still sitting there, although that was quite unlikely.

A few moments later, she was standing on her street. She noticed that although the sky had cleared up, it must have been raining because everything was absolutely soaking wet. Oh no, she thought miserably. He was cold and wet and lonely and hungry…

Grow up, you sod! She scolded herself as realization hit on her. Of course he wasn't cold or wet or hungry or even lonely (transfigure himself up some entertainment). He had magic, that's why. And she could perform a locater spell in order to find his bloody wand. Grimly she decided to tell nobody of the fact that she had indeed been worried sick. She decided to just pop in with her parents and see how that was going for a few moments, if she was already here, before locating one huge mess of a man.

She rang her doorbell and her father answered. "Hermione?" he asked in surprise. Her mother came hurrying up behind him. "Hermione," she smiled knowingly. "I've been expecting you back here for quite a while now."

"Whatever for, mum?" Hermione asked, surprised, until she glanced behind them and looked at a certain someone munching scones in her kitchen.

"Y-you!" she sputtered, completely in shock. And then, a few seconds later when the anger hit, "I can't believe you!" she roared. "I've been worried sick for the last two hours and you've been sitting here eating scones! How dare you? I cannot believe this! While I have had excruciating experiences with your parents, might I add, you have been sitting here eating my parents out of house and home? I. Simply. Can't. Believe. It. You sodding, arrogant, prickiest prick of a pricking prat!"

Whether her parents were astonished at her display, they didn't say anything. Draco Sodding Malfoy, however, simply grinned and said, "Hold on. Let me get this straight. You were worried sick?" he asked nonchalantly. "Were you worried sick? Aw, was poor little Hermione worried sick about her husband?"

"I HATE YOU!" she snarled helplessly. She had let it slip! Stupid girl; she really had to get control on her tongue.

"Hermione!" her father finally broke in, shocked. "I'm simply astonished! You are talking to your husband, here?"

Draco got up and put a what she supposed could be called comforting (it wasn't) arm on her shoulder. "Baby, calm down! I was just bonding with my in-laws. We've had a lovely time. Hermione, sweety, are you okay?"

Hermione didn't care about the show anymore. Forget what Narcissa and Lucius had said; forget what her parents were going to say; forget it all to hell and back. "Stop lying," she sneered. "Stop it at once."

Draco seemed to sense trouble and immediately started to pacify it. "Sweetheart…you've been drinking again. I didn't know you and Wease—your friends were going to meet at a bar! You've gotten carried away again. Come on, Hermione, let's get you home. Sorry, Ted, Jane… I'm sure you know Hermione can't hold her liquor well. We'll see you later."

The Grangers looked on with horrified surprise as Draco led his almost foaming at the mouth wife out of their house. "Now, baby, say goodbye to your mum and dad," Draco whispered with a smirk.

"Bastard," she whispered back furiously. "Bye mum, bye dad!" she called out loudly and shut the door firmly behind them.

"I cannot believe you!" she yelled once they were outside. "First, first you sit here and eat like a pig while I'm suffering through your parents' stupid demands, and then you tell my parents that I'm drunk?! Do you know how much this is going to bother them?! They probably thought I'd never heard of liquor! I don't know about you but to them, I'm still their little baby girl. And you are totally running it."

Draco opened and closed his mouth wrathfully. "Sorry," he finally said in a tight, clipped voice. "But there was no other way to explain your suddenly hateful behavior," he added.

Hermione sighed as her anger slowly diminished. "Come on, let's go home," she sighed and grabbed his hand, double apparating them to his lavish home.

"Hey," he said. "This isn't your home."

"Now it is," she snapped, and then decided that he did at least deserve an explanation. "Your parents decided that it is. It's only fitting for their only heir to live with his wife."

"Really now?" he asked, surprise dotting his expression as he saw all of her stuff in his house. "What exactly did they say?"

"Oh, the usual. Disgrace to the family name, blah, blah, can't have it leaking out to the press…got to keep it quiet, pretend we're really totally and completely head over heels in love…and I can't work anymore either. Instead I've got to spend my time researching for a possible way for us to get a divorce…" Hermione trailed off, and Draco noticed that she looked very, very upset. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I shouldn't have been that rude in front of my parents. It's just…I'm so stressed and I really, really don't want to quit work, I mean, who do your parents think they are, and…"

Draco recognized the signs and panicked.

She was going to bawl any second.

As if on cue Hermione started sobbing. Draco backed away. If there was one thing he could not deal with, it was a crying female. Especially if abovementioned crying female was his wife and mortal enemy. Finally he decided he at least had to try to console her. "Shh, Hermione, it's okay," he uncomfortably called from the other side of the room. Okay, not helping.

He moved closer, close enough to awkwardly pat her shoulder. "It's okay. Hey, you know what?" he pledged, "I'll talk to my parents. You'll still be allowed to work, I promise."

"You (sob) mean (sob) it (sob)?" she asked through her tears.

"Yes," he reassured, and was surprised to see that he felt sincere about this, "I do."

"Oh!" If there was one thing Draco had not expected to accompany that oh, it was having Hermione throw her arms around him and hug him in a very tight… and dare he say it…intimate manner.

"Oh," Draco echoed, feeling shy. Oh, indeed.

A/N: Yeah! I've got another chapter done. As usual, I want to know your opinions on this. Hey I just found out that Harry Potter's sixth book is going to be called Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Apparently this is old news but…I just found out recently. Hmm… not quite the title I was expecting (ok, I hadn't heard of it)… and somehow not that appealing, but I don't care! Come on, JK, write, write, write!


	7. Owls, Lunch, and Narcissa

Rise and Die! Chapter 7

Hermione was just debating where to put Ron's hideous lampshade when her mobile rang. With one last look at the abovementioned item (which Draco had insisted, rather rudely, that he wanted out of the house before he returned from work) she answered the call with a resigned, "Hello?", thinking it was probably a colleague asking why she wasn't at work that fine Monday morning.

Armed with an explanation of, "I'm sorting out my things in my new house"—which was perfectly true, she waited for the colleague to fire away at the questions. Imagine her surprise when said colleague turned out to be a certain Ronald Weasley.

"Hermione!" gasped the voice on the other end.

"Ron!" Hermione smiled to herself.

"Please tell me that what I'm reading is _not_ true. Please. It's revolting and it makes me nauseous to look at these!"

"Look at what?" Hermione asked innocently as she fingered the lampshade, wondering if she should just stash it in one of Draco Malfoy's many closets.

"Tabloids! Tabloids proclaiming your marriage, Hermione, or do you not remember that?!" Ron shrieked.

Suddenly everything came back to Hermione in one huge jumbled mess. She was absolutely disgusted that she had actually forgotten her predicament, but Hermione was a fiercely focused young woman and interior decorating was a hobby of hers…no wonder it had captivated all of her attention (and brain cells, it seemed). "Er," she began awkwardly, wondering where to begin, "Ron, I can explain…"

"I'm waiting," Ron growled. "I mean…that git…" he sputtered. Hermione suspected that he was too angry to be able to form coherent sentences.

"I sympathize with you," she sighed as she remembered what Lucius Malfoy had just told her yesterday. That whole pretend-you're-in-love bit…and he said that it couldn't leak out, at all.

She had a quick mental debate. Harry knew. Would it be fair if she didn't tell Ron the truth? Aha, suddenly an idea stumbled upon her. "Look," she said quickly, "I can't tell you a thing except it's not what you think it is… and I want you to ask Harry. He'll tell you everything."

"What?" Ron's voice conveyed the confusion the poor chap must be feeling.

Hermione ignored it, deciding that she would definitely stuff the lamp in a closet. "What tabloids?" she swiftly asked. Oh, dear, had this reached the tabloids already?

"Only every wizarding tabloid in existence. For once even _The Quibbler_ has the same story printed on its cover! And it's on the front page of _The Daily Prophet_! And also on _Skeeter's__ Secrets_! Huge headlines proclaiming, "Heir to Malfoy Fortune Marries Muggleborn Witch!" And then right underneath that, "Top Researcher Hermione Granger, Best Friend of Harry Potter, wedded to Draco Malfoy, Heir to One of the Largest Wizard Fortunes Ever Seen? Wedding of the Century! Hermione, it's all that rot! I mean, this is Malfoy… we hate Malfoy, remember?!"

Hermione grinned, knowing he couldn't see her expression of serenity. "Just talk to Harry," she promised, "and you'll get all the answers you want. We'll catch up later, Ron, I've got to find places for all of my things. This house is just so darn big!"

"Wait, what?" Ron's yelp was cut off as Hermione hung up the phone, feeling sorry for him.

He really didn't deserve to be treated like that.

But then again, it had been fun. Who would have though innocent Hermione Granger could turn the tables on her friends like that? Anyhow, it would all be cleared up in a matter of minutes as Ron would no doubt storm into Harry's office and demand to know the explanation.

With a smile still playing on her lips, Hermione resumed her task, humming a tune softly under her breath. She had specifically told the house-elves she didn't need their help, but now it seemed that that hadn't been the best of ideas. Some of her furniture that she couldn't bear to part with was downright heavy, too heavy for one person, and a fleet of house-elves (which Malfoy certainly had) would find it much easier.

Swallowing her ego she called for Lola—who remembered her new name, unfortunately. "What can Lola do for Mistress Malfoy?"

Rather than argue about this name issue, Hermione simply dictated the work and sat down for a needed rest, glancing at the large grandfather's clock in the dining hall. Oh, dear, it was already eleven-thirty…and Narcissa was forcing her to meet for lunch at twelve.

Deciding she'd better get dressed Hermione hurried to her room, which was unfortunately right next to Draco's. She blushed at the thought of Draco's room, remembering of course last night's little…thing. That hug. She hadn't meant to throw herself at him…it was just that everything had looked so bloody dismal and it was just such a relief to know that perhaps she would be able to at least save a part of her old life and work.

The worst part was that being in his arms was actually really rather comforting.

Well, no matter, she brushed it off. She'd have hugged anyone that had been standing next to her at that moment, and everyone's arms were comforting. This was no exception, even if it was the most horrible bloke to walk the planet.

Just as she threw open her closet and looked at disdain at her robes, an owl flew in through the window and dropped a letter in her arms.

It was off before Hermione could even address it so she turned her attentions to the letter instead.

_Hermione—_

_Mother has just informed me that you are meeting her for a lunch today. I advise you to wear a designer outfit because Mother has a penchant for fashion and appreciates any lady that does. Go with a Madame Madison creation, those are her favorite, or perhaps an Elitian silk robe. You'll find both in that guest room closet with new clothes. Pick whatever suits your fancy._

_--Draco Malfoy_

Hermione sputtered as she reread the note. Imagine, Draco Malfoy sending her a letter about fashion. Imagine, Draco Malfoy even knowing about top-notch wizard designers. Of course she'd heard of Madame Madison and Elitian; they were equivalent of Chanel and Oscar de la Renta in the muggle world.

First off Hermione wondered if she even wanted to be in Narcissa's good graces. Narcissa was a pompous, arrogant, snobby woman (much like her son), and Hermione couldn't care less what Narcissa thought of her.

Then again, in the event that they were unable to find a loophole…Hermione would be stuck with the woman for life, and things would be very miserable if she didn't get along with her.

Deciding it was for the best Hermione sauntered over to the guest closet and pulled out a pinkish hued, silky Madame Madison robe. It was brand new and just lovely to look at. Hermione couldn't help but want to slip it on immediately, and so she did, and then promptly transfigured her fanciest strappy heels into a gorgeous matching shade of pink.

Feeling pretty, she grabbed her purse and stepped out, Apparating to some restaurant that Naricssa had picked out—Makhani's.

Luckily Narcissa Malfoy was already there when Hermione arrived at 12:02 p.m. Hoping that she would not be reprimanded for her slight tardiness (and if she was, that would just be ridiculous!) Hermione slipped into the seat across from Narcissa.

Narcissa looked stern. "A Malfoy," she scowled, "is always fashionably late. That was not late. I invited you here at twelve; you should be here between 12:10 and 12:15. Do I make myself clear?" 

Hermione was astounded. "But…well, how come you are here?"

"Because," Narcissa began grimly, "I had a feeling you would do that, and Malfoys do not keep each other waiting."

Hermione wondered when exactly during the last twenty-four hours Narcissa had taken it upon herself to believe that Hermione really was a Malfoy. Because Hermione sincerely hoped that this Malfoy status was only temporary. "Er, all right, then," she finally said, noticing the tension between them and not wanting to cause a struggle.

"Now," Narcissa continued as she ordered two plates of steaming hot Indian food, chicken tikka and naan, "I've brought you here to discuss…the activities of a Malfoy wife."

Hermione nearly choked on her complimentary mango shake, the special of the day. "Activities?" she echoed with a sense of foreboding.

Narcissa nodded as confirmation. "Look at this place around you. The most expensive, tastiest Indian food available in England…this is a top-notch place. This is the kind of place you will dine at regularly. Only the most expensive restaurants for you. The service is a bit lax right now, I'm afraid, but that is only because it is lunch hour. Otherwise you are treated with utmost dignity and respect."

"But this is a Muggle restaurant," Hermione protested, "how could they even know of the Malfoy name?"

"The Malfoys are resourceful. A hundred years ago some ancestor of Lucius opened up a very successful Muggle business…the Muggles know of our name, somewhat—they only know a little bit, of course—but it's enough to give us recognition. We are entitled to their privileges as well, as inane as they are."

Hermione had to nod her appreciation. Merlin, this family was cunning… "I see. That's very clever."

"Indeed." Narcissa seemed to just have noticed Hermione's attire and she eyed it approvingly. "I see you are wearing Madame Madison."

Hermione nodded and blushed. "Er, yes…my favorite designer," she added as a quick afterthought. Never in her dreams would she imagine ever kissing up to Narcissa Malfoy…

Narcissa smiled very faintly…so faint that you could barely see it, but it was there. Hermione ignored the urge to scream, "Score!"

"At least your taste is decent enough for a Malfoy wife," Narcissa finally said.

Hermione scowled inwardly but kept her smile plastered on. Only the Malfoys could twist a compliment around enough to make it sound like a demeaning insult. She wondered why again she was putting up with this.

Oh yes. That possibility that she just might be stuck with this family for life!

Now was not the time to have a temper tantrum. "So, er, what activities do I have?" she changed the subject.

Narcissa smiled serenely. "Of course your number one activity is to research. My husband will help you, as will Draco—when they have time. Malfoy men must keep up appearances and thus of course their work will come first. But you will have time."

"Ah," Hermione interrupted, just as serenely, "your son promised me that I would be allowed to work."

The older woman's calm disappeared immediately. "What?"

"Er, yes. He promised I would be allowed to work."

"Oh, did he?" scowled Narcissa. She took a few deep breaths and Hermione knew she was fighting to stay calm; to stay in control. "All right then," Narcissa finally ground out, looking as if she'd just eaten the spiciest curry available. "You'll work and then come straight to our manor to research."

"No," Hermione disagreed, "I shan't spend all my time researching. I'm determined to make this marriage the smallest of dents in my life. I will come after work, for one hour. That's more than enough."

"Two hours."

"An hour and a half."

Narcissa seethed. "Fine. An hour and a half. You will get off work at five. NO arguing. Then you'll be able to go home by six-thirty, which is approximately the time that Draco comes home."

Hermione swallowed the rising anger and nodded wearily. "But why should you care if Draco and I get home at the same time?"

"Because you must look like you're in love! Have you not seen the tabloids? You will be all over them and in them for a good while now. Reporters will stealthily follow you everywhere. You must at all times look like this marriage between you and Draco is full of love and happiness. Cook him dinner at night. He likes sauté; do that a lot."

"Excuse me?" Hermione sputtered. "Cook him dinner?!"

Narcissa grinned evilly, a trademark of hers. "Now, normally, I'd suggest the house-elves…but you don't approve of them, do you?"

Hermione clenched her fists. "I will cook him dinner," she argued heatedly. "All me. Those poor creatures will not be made to serve him food!"

"Lovely," Narcissa said with a cool smirk. "You realize what you've just said, right?"

Hermione gritted her teeth as she realized that she had just sagely promised to cook Draco dinner. Ugh. "I do," she spat out.

"Whenever you leave the house," Narcissa informed her, "you will dress accordingly. Obviously, that is not a problem, you seem to know what you're doing in that department. But make sure you always look sexy and _unavailable_. Hermione, darling," she condescendingly told her, "you are now a trophy wife. Be sure to look like one. All Malfoy wives do, no matter how brainy they are. Another good thing that you are smart. Every Malfoy wife is very intelligent."

Hermione grimaced. Trophy wife?! What other atrocities would she have to put up with? "Wonderful," she managed, "I just make the _perfect_ Malfoy wife, don't I?" she added sarcastically.

"Hardly," Narcissa's reply came scathingly. "And lastly, no infidelity will be tolerated. Do you know what happens to pureblooded families if a member is caught practicing adultery?"

Hermione shook her head, although she was beginning to form an idea.

"The entire family's name is tarnished," Narcissa's expression was dangerous. "Entirely. In past times the adulterous individual is put to death by the family…for bringing shame upon them, of course. Nowadays we don't do that, but Hermione, you will become a pariah. Not to mention that Lucius and Draco will make life absolutely miserable for you."

"I understand," Hermione nodded, "don't worry. No cheating. But please. Tell your son that. I have a feeling he may forget."

Narcissa pursed her lips before she finally answered. "I have a feeling you may be right."

Hermione and Narcissa finished their meal and left the classy restaurant. Narcissa bade Hermione goodbye in her own unique way. "Stay out of trouble," she warned, "As much as I dislike you, I don't want poison slipped into your drink—oh, don't look so worried, Lucius hasn't done that in years—and yes, we do use muggle ways of death sometimes, less conspicuous, although nothing beats a good killing curse—and, I will inform you of other duties as you go along. Go on now."

"Thank you, Narcissa," Hermione replied politely, and Apparated away. She had mixed feelings towards Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa was evil in her own little way, but she was nothing compared to Lucius. Hmm. Perhaps that formed the family's karmic balance?

Shaking her head in contemplation she soon found herself in her new house. Malfoy Junior's mansion. It was very pretty, that it was… and some part of her was a bit excited to say that this was _her_ new house. Granted, it was definitely under Draco's name and her name wouldn't pop up on any legal documents… but wouldn't it be just a blast to tell people that this was her house? And that she had married into one of the richest wizard families ever? Okay, her husband was a prat, but they didn't know that.

She'd probably have some sort of opportunity come up later. Before she could even enter the house a regal looking owl swooped down on her, holding its leg out. She took the letter off and patted the owl, wondering who it could be this time. Ah, Narcissa.

_Hermione-_

_I've decided that in order to make this look more Malfoy-esque, you and Draco will be throwing a party, celebrating of course your marriage. Malfoys throw parties. We have grand affairs. Already this looks strange and people are talking because you eloped, and that is not the Malfoy style. I'll send you the guest list tomorrow…we'll have it on Saturday night. Oh, and one more thing: Lucius and I have decided you and Draco will have a honeymoon. Not a real one, of course, you don't deserve it, you ungrateful children, but both of you shall take the rest of this week off and stay in his house. Don't leave, unless you apparate over here in order to research (which you will be doing). The tabloids cannot see you out of the house because you will be on your "honeymoon" in some undisclosed location. I'll tell Draco. _

_-Narcissa Malfoy_

Hermione reread the note in disbelief. WHAT?! She couldn't work for the rest of this week, either, because of her so-called pretend honeymoon? It wasn't as if they were stalked so thoroughly that people would question the lack of a honeymoon.

Of course she was wrong because at that very instant reporters who had been hiding in the bushes jumped on her. Quickly Hermione hid the note and faltered. "Excuse me?"

"Mrs. Malfoy! Mrs. Malfoy!" called one. Hermione brushed past them and tried to make it into the house, throwing off questions about her marriage.

"I'm not answering any questions," she protested weakly as she made her way up the steps. "Now if you'll excuse me…I, er, must pack for my honeymoon."

"Honeymoon?" one reporter questioned and once again they were on her like a pack of wild dogs.

"Yes, my honeymoon. My, er, lovely husband and I are leaving promptly tomorrow morning and shan't be back until Saturday morning…and that night we are having a party to celebrate our marriage."

She couldn't believe she was actually agreeing to all this, but right now she didn't have time to think rationally. She just had to give out some information to get these reporters off of her!

"Where is your honeymoon to?" someone questioned.

"I'm not going to share that," she answered with a small smile, hoping it came off as shy and the newest Mrs. Malfoy was just so high in her state of wedded bliss (ha!) that the reporters wouldn't ask why she didn't share.

Luckily she was able to break through the people-barrier and shove her way into her house. Panting deeply she sighed in relief as she sank against the door, completely exhausted from her battle with the reporters. They were vile creatures, they were!

At that instant, just as Hermione had regained her breath, her mobile went off at an ear-splitting shriek and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Hurriedly she picked it up with a breathless, "Hello?"

"I just found out the whole story, Hermione," Ron shouted from the other line. Poor boy had never properly learnt how to use a phone.

Hermione was really not in the mood to discuss it, not with so much going on. "Hmm?"

"Yes, and I think there's just got to be a way to get out, I mean may—"

"If you'll excuse me, Ron," Hermione began with a small giggle, "I've got to pack for my honeymoon. I'm leaving first thing tomorrow."

"Honeymoon?" she heard him sputter from the other end, right before she'd clicked off the phone.

With the same smile still playing on her lips, she went back to her interior decorating. For the first time since Saturday, she was in a really good mood.

A/N: Hermione wasn't being mean…she was just having fun! She needs some fun. Her weekend was really shot ;) Anyway, yes, another chapter is out. Narcissa—still snobby upscale wife. Her major concerns include the family name and fashion. So, yeah, that's the way she's going to be.

I'm surprised a number of you also disliked "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince." That book better be really good because the title…is a bit discomfiting. Anyway, thanks for the brilliant reviews! Tell me what you thought of this chapter!


	8. Honeymooning in Hell

Rise and Die! Chapter 8

Draco Malfoy was having a perfectly wonderful day at work. Usually tiresome and boring, the office suddenly seemed like paradise. It was certainly an escape from the horror and tyranny of this weekend. Vowing never to drink again, Draco sent Jezebel, his secretary, to fetch him some brandy.

Screw it.

When he'd gotten here bright and early, some of his minions (er, coworkers) had sent him odd little looks (nothing that a good glare wouldn't solve). He supposed it was rather strange of him to set foot into the building before nine—but what could he say, the office was a million times more inviting than his home.

A few people had inquired about his weekend. But after his snapping, "What's it to you?!" to the fifth person, they'd given up. They weren't getting anything out of him, Merlin help him! Nobody was ever going to find out that he'd gone and married a house-elf-loving mudblood bitch!

Ugh. It pained him to think it.

Around six, he decided that Hermione or no Hermione; he'd had enough of this silly "work" thing. Working in the ministry, he sighed, really sucked. They actually expected you to do paperwork. A Malfoy doing paperwork? Unbelievable, it was. Absolutely silly. But his own father had started off doing paperwork, and if Draco was lucky he could soon be promoted to Head of his department (which dealt with _purely_ magical objects, thank you).

Just as he was packing his things a familiar owl—his mother's owl—swooped down through his window (yes. He had a window office. The perks of being rich and…let's just say…_persuasive_). "Fletcher," he smiled grimly at the bird. "I'm sure you bring nothing but good news."

Fletcher seemed to note the heavy sarcasm in Draco's voice. Nipping rather painfully at Draco's fingers, the owl flew off into the air. Truly his mother's owl. Not a care for anyone else in the world. Unfolding the parchment, Draco began to read the letter and nearly fainted.

That proved it. His mother was most definitely St. Mungo's bound.

She was mad.

Simply mad!

How in heavens did she expect him to take the rest of this week off and stay cooped up in his house with only Hermione Granger and her sick love for house-elves in his company? How could she do that?!

Right. Because Hermione was his wife. And they were on a "honeymoon".

At this rate, Draco would rather go somewhere and accidentally push his _lovely_ wife off a raft. Then again, he really didn't want to go through all those murder charges his father had to deal with.

Nothing a good bribe or two couldn't solve.

Muttering to himself Draco apparated home, certainly not looking forward to his week.

----

Hermione woke the next morning in satin sheets. This was something she would have to get used to, certainly. Not that it would be difficult; the sheets were just so comfortable. Stretching, she got up and made her way to the window. The sun wasn't shining. It was dreary, rainy, typical London weather.

And then she remembered that today started her week of hell. All the way up till Saturday in which it would culminate in one big horror scene straight out of a terribly scary picture.

With a frown on her face, Hermione stumbled towards the bathroom. It was locked. With a sigh she _Alohomora'd_ her way in, grumbling under her breath. Suddenly she heard a high-pitched shriek.

Looking up, Hermione felt blinded for a moment. There in front of her, in all his naked glory, was a red-faced Draco Malfoy shrieking like a girl. "Get out!" he screamed, glancing wildly around the ornate bathroom for what Hermione presumed was a towel.

Throwing a hand across her eyes (and of course leaving slits so she could still see a bit), Hermione ran out. "Sorry," she mumbled, feeling hideously embarrassed.

How could she have been so stupid? The door had been locked. But how was she supposed to know she was sharing a bathroom with the git of all gits? She had thought…when he'd showed her, quite rudely, where she would sleep…that perhaps he would be all the way on the other side of the house—which was very, very far.

Hermione, however, couldn't stop the traitorous flow of thoughts. For some reason she kept seeing a pale, lean, muscled body through flashes in her mind. A good chest. Not a body-builder's chest, but certainly a good chest. Good torso. Good…she couldn't bring herself to go there, turning red at the thought.

But from what she'd seen and read…he was…well-endowed.

Very well-endowed.

"Eep!" Hermione screamed into her pillow. Still blushing she knocked on the bathroom door. A muffled, "Stay out," came back at her.

Hermione wondered if there was another bathroom in this huge house. Of course there was. Leaving her room, she wished someone would give her a tour of this place. That would certainly be useful, but she doubted that Draco would do something as nice as that. He simply didn't have it in him.

"You can use it now," she heard someone call. Turning back to her room she entered, and made a beeline for the bathroom. Although slightly foggy from Draco's shower, it was now thankfully vacant.

Performing a quick spell to get rid of the humidity, Hermione took a shower and got dressed, still unable to get rid of a Naked Draco Malfoy that just wouldn't leave her mind. It was as if the image had been branded in her.

Around nine, Hermione stepped into the kitchen—the only place of this house that she had pretty much memorized. Draco sat at the breakfast table, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a paper in the other.

"Ah…uh…" Hermione began timidly.

He looked up. "Good morning," he seemed to have recovered fully from the shock of the morning. Hermione remembered with a bit of a giggle that he had actually _shrieked_.

"How come you're wishing me a good morning?" she asked in surprise. "I didn't think you were polite enough."

"Only because," he gave her a smarmy grin, "of this article I've found in the paper. I'm sure you will absolutely love it."

With a frown Hermione took the Daily Prophet from his hands and looked in shock at the headlines. There was a picture of Lucius Malfoy, frowning and shaking his head at the reader. Underneath it the headline read, "_Malfoy__ Son Marries Muggleborn Witch_".

"What?" Hermione gasped.

"Read on," Draco said glumly from his coffee.

And so she did.

_This past weekend, Draco Malfoy, son of the prominent Lucius Malfoy and his beautiful wife Narcissa, married Hermione Granger, a muggleborn witch he attended school with. The new Mrs. Malfoy is the owner of the highly-successful potions research company, Lightstar. She is also close friends with Harry Potter, and has even been linked to him romantically. This huge news comes as a shock. Perhaps bloodlines are not as important to older wizarding families as they once were. When asked about this, Lucius Malfoy gave no comment and his wife Narcissa could not be reached. In an interview with the newest Mrs. Malfoy, it has been learned that the happy couple are away on their honeymoon this week, and will be back in order to celebrate with family and friends on Saturday night._

Hermione gaped at Draco. "It's already in the paper?" she gasped.

He nodded. "It was only a matter of time. I can't believe it."

"I…this is ridiculous!" Hermione cried. "Absolutely ridiculous!"

"I know. Do you know how many people are going to want to contact me?"

"And me!" Hermione added with a glare.

"And you," he conceded. "It will be a nightmare. Perhaps it's a good thing we're on our 'honeymoon'; we shan't have to deal with any of this until Saturday night."

"But I'm still cooped up with you, and you're stuck with me," Hermione pointed out mournfully. "Do you know how much I dislike your mother?"

He scowled fiercely. "Don't you say anything about my mother."

She immediately saw his point. No matter what, she never wanted Draco Malfoy to say, "I dislike _your_ mother." Even if his mother was at fault, it had been horribly rude of her and even though this concerned the Malfoys, Hermione was a polite girl. Shamefully she apologized to him, not voicing the thought that perhaps she was distract because of an earlier, uh, incident that morning.

"It's fine," he shrugged, losing all interest in the battle now that she'd given in. "I'm just terribly dissatisfied with this article. Happy couple? Yeah, if you're a sadist."

Hermione laughed. "That's true. We're about as happy as Voldemort when he was bested by an eighteen year old boy."

"Yeah. I lost all respect for that guy when Potter could beat him. I mean, if Potter can beat you…then anyone can beat you."

Hermione snorted. "And that's why you've been beaten by Harry countless times at Quidditch?"

Draco growled. "Quidditch excluded."

"Then what about the time on the train when we knocked you unconscious? Harry was involved. And there've been plenty of scuffles when Harry wo—"

"It was just a statement," Draco cried hotly. "You don't have to read into it. Stop reading into it! Stop right now!"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione gave him a wink (she never knew she was so daring!) and couldn't help but say, "I _always_ read into stuff. Even when I'm in the _bathroom_."

Draco gave her an odd look before realization dawned on his features. Turning slightly pink he looked away. "Don't bring that up," he mumbled.

"Oh, please," Hermione smiled, "if I had been in your position you wouldn't have let me live it down."

Draco didn't reply.

Hermione sighed. "Look, I've already forgotten," she lied through her teeth, deciding that better a lie if he wasn't used to someone taking the mickey out of him, "So why don't you forget as well."

He met her eyes. "Forgotten," came his crisp answer.

And so it was.

Although, in truth, Hermione was pretty sure neither of them had forgotten, and most likely wouldn't. They just didn't speak of it again.

The morning was awkward, in the least. The two of them had to stay upstairs for a good part of the morning, without any indication of actually being there, because they could hear reporters downstairs. "Why are they bothering us?" Hermione whined. "They know we're on a quote-unquote honeymoon!"

"Clues," Draco shrugged. "Anyhow I suppose I'll work from home. You can do the same."

"My stuff is downstairs," Hermione moaned. "Do you think they're peeking in, or could I just Accio it on up?"

"Just Accio it," Draco scoffed. "As if they could peek in my windows. Won't have any eyes left if they try that!"

"You're serious?" Hermione gasped.

Draco looked stricken. "Only kidding! Can't you take to a bit of humor?"

"Not if it's morbid," she snapped back, and quickly called out the summoning spell for most of her work things.

One hefty book of potion ingredients and a list of the potions that her company was working on, Hermione was deeply immersed in her work.

-----

Draco had decided to leave his wife alone. Although she was his only form of entertainment until those blasted reporters finally decided that Draco and Hermione were indeed gone, she was downright boring when working. If he tried to interrupt, she didn't even get mad! She was good enough to tune him out with only an occasional murmuring of, "Hush, Draco," or "Not now," or "Go play with mummy."

It was downright degrading, it was!

Bored, he was terribly relieved to see that around lunch time, all the reporters had left. Going down he had a house-elf make him a light, lovely little salad for lunch. After eating, he was just about to go bug Hermione when his father's face popped into the nearest fireplace

Surprised, Draco kept his emotions under check and gave his father a grin. "Hello, Father," he said.

"Draco," his father sighed. "we need to have a little talk."

Draco's grin dropped seven notches. He had known this was coming, but he would have liked to postpone it as much as possible. "Right now?" he asked, hoping the answer was a resounding no.

No such luck. "Of course," Lucius snapped. "I want you here right now. Your mum has gone out to prepare for the party Saturday night. Bring the mudblood as well; we'll have her start researching. Silly bint."

Draco's scowl deepened. "I'm _married_ to that 'silly bint'," he said scathingly, "and I'd rather you didn't speak so rudely about her. She _is_ your daughter-in-law. She's _related_ to you."

Draco felt almost protective of Hermione. He felt as if he was the only one allowed to demean her; she was his to demean, wasn't she? After all she was his wife! It was a sick way of thinking, and Draco knew it, but it was the only way he could justify his thoughts.

His father seemed reluctant but ceased to insult the girl. "Well then I expect you two in five minutes. No later, Draco, or there will be consequences."

Draco knew whenever Lucius was in a Mood™, and now was certainly one of those times. Blearily he headed up the stairs and shouted out to Hermione. "Come on," he called, "we've got to go over to my parents' house."

"But why?" she called back. "I don't want to!"

"Believe me Granger," the word slipped off his tongue, even though the rational part of his brain realized she wasn't 'Granger' anymore, "You're going to want to. You don't want to disobey my father. Bad stuff."

"Then you go!"

"He asked for you too! You have to start researching!"

If that didn't bring Hermione down, then nothing would. Luckily she came slowly down the steps. "The only reason I'm going," she frowned at him, "is because I've just begun to realize how dire this situation is. Oh, it's worse for me than it is for you," she spat when he was about to comment on how he was in the same situation. "Your parents despise me. Your friends will despise me. I'll always be looked down upon if I stay in this old-fashioned society. You don't understand; I've got to get out."

He opened and closed his mouth furiously, ready to argue, but somehow nothing came out. Thinking again he spoke. "Look. They'll look down upon me, too. In their eyes I'll have married someone inferior to me."

"In their eyes?" she echoed with a hollow, mirthless laugh. "I doubt that very much. It's in your eyes, too, Draco. You consider me below you."

He paused. What was he supposed to say to that? It was partially true…and that was if he separated a bloodline from the rest. She was superior in intelligence (not that he wasn't smart), she was quite pretty, although not in a typical way, and… she was awfully nice. Not to him, no, but he'd seen the way she always acted around others, especially those who were beneath her.

She treated them like equals.

She championed their rights.

Draco almost couldn't understand why she would want to. She was accepting of everyone. It was unnerving; and at the same time…he respected it. He'd always respected it, although adhering to it was a different story. He realized he still hadn't answered her question.

He was married to her now. Was she still beneath him? Was she pureblood-by-marriage? If in the event they got divorced, would his opinion of her go back to the way it was? Was it just different now because she had the same last name? Try as he might, he couldn't be downright ugly with her—she was his wife. And of course, wives deserved utmost respect.

Contrary to popular belief, the pureblooded arranged marriages were different now. No longer were they made just for family ties (although that played a big role, no doubt). Instead, the parents introduced their children, and if the children got along and decided they were okay with getting married, the preparations ensued. If the prospective newlyweds decided they didn't like each other enough to get married, nothing happened and it was all just fine.

That had been the way it was with Sally Anne. Although they'd known each other at school, Draco hadn't been close with the girl and only after he'd been re-introduced at a formal dinner with his parents had he gotten to know her. They'd both decided—well, in actuality, Sally Anne had wanted to get married so very badly that Draco couldn't say no—and preparations had been made.

Except he'd ruined it all when he married a mudblood. He'd tarnished the family name. No wonder his parents were so horrified.

Hey, this was cool! He'd never really rebelled against his parents. This was a pretty damn good rebellion, he thought, and looking over at Hermione, the price to pay wasn't all that bad. Sure, if he had to marry a mudblood, he wouldn't have picked her—God. Blood was the _least_ important factor in their relationship—but now that he had, she wasn't half-bad.

Hold on, Draco thought frantically. Had he just thought that blood didn't matter in their relationship? Of course it did!

"Draco," she was saying, waving her hands in front of his face. "Where've you been?"

He looked up, embarrassed. "Right here. Come on," he changed the topic, "we're late. Let's go."

Grabbing her hand he double apparated them to the elder Malfoy Mansion. Lucius Malfoy was waiting in the gardens. "Really," he greeted them coldly, "how long does it take to get here?"

Hermione didn't say anything. Draco flushed and apologized to his father for being late. "I, er, had some things to do," he fabricated.

"I haven't time to deal with this," Lucius growled. "All right let's get started. Hermione you'll be doing research, so let's go to the library."

Hermione nodded and they followed Lucius through the winding corridors until they reached a heavyset wooden door. "Behold," Lucius flung open the door.

The look on Hermione's face was priceless. It was as if someone had just shown her a glimpse of heaven. "Oh!" she gasped under her breath.

Draco felt pride swelling through him. "It's a pity we've lost so many books over the years," he said, feeling more like himself (ever the smarmy git). "This library seems to have shrunk!"

Hermione paid him no mind. Barely containing herself she half-walked half-skipped to the nearest shelf of books, tracing her fingers across their spines so very gently, so very smoothly, so very…sensually.

Draco shook his head. He wasn't supposed to be thinking like that. Books? Sensual? Hermione? What was wrong with him?!

Lucius spoke up. "Yes. The books on ancient wizarding families and pureblood rules of conduct are on the left side. It is an extensive list," he walked over to a certain shelf, "and I want you to start here. Here you'll find the basics of pureblood conduct… educate yourself before you try to find a loophole."

Hermione didn't argue, and Draco was momentarily surprised. He figured that she was too overwhelmed by the sheer size of the library to really care if Lucius wasn't on his best behavior. She walked over to the shelf and said, "Lovely. I'll just get started then."

Lucius nodded and ushered Draco out of the library. With one last look at the girl, Draco looked back at his father and his stomach dropped in fear. Oh, dear!

Soon they were in Lucius' private study. Pouring out a scotch, Lucius sat down and motioned for Draco to do the same. "I'm disappointed in you," Lucius began.

"I realize," Draco cut in swiftly, "but I honestly don't think it's your place to be."

Horrified at the words that had come out of his mouth (and honestly, he hadn't meant to say a thing!) Draco looked down, but he kept his cool. It wasn't that he was afraid of his father, it was just that Lucius, when angry, often had a Mood™, and those were bad, and if things went badly, Draco wouldn't get all the things he wanted, and…

"You don't think it's my place to be?" Lucius echoed disbelievingly. "I'm your father! Of course it's my place to be!"

"But," Draco pointed out, sighing—he'd already begun the argument, he'd have to finish it if he wanted to keep his ego bruise-free—"She's my wife, not yours. How should it matter to you?"

"Well, she's family now, as you said. Shouldn't I have a bit of a say in who becomes family and who doesn't?"

"I suppose, but honestly, you had too much say. And to tell you the truth I didn't even love Sally Anne!"

His father didn't look surprised. "Can't blame you there," he replied derisively, "but honestly, a mudblood is no replacement."

"She's not just a mudblood," Draco argued hotly, "she's also an annoying, goody goody Gryffindor freak! Can't you see that?"

And that was what it had come down to. Draco's thoughts had finally assembled themselves into one coherent sentence. When his circle of society saw her, they just saw mudblood, but she was more than mudblood. She was _annoying_. She was _irritating_. She was a _Gryffindor_ graduate. She was best friends with _Potter_ and _Weasley_. She cared about _stupid_ things.

"I see," Lucius said stiffly. "You've taken a liking to her?"

"No!" Draco protested vehemently. "Not at all!"

"Hardly," Lucius snorted, "is that why you're screaming about it? I'd say you find her rather attractive. It's not a sin. She's pretty."

Draco was left speechless. What was with him? This was the second person in one day to leave him speechless. "Excuse me?" he finally managed.

"There's nothing wrong with finding her attractive. But you can't marry her! You've got to marry a proper witch; can't you see that?"

"She _is_ a proper witch!" Draco was once again shocked by his traitorous mouth. He wasn't even thinking about these things, they were just spewing out of his mouth.

"Very well." Lucius' eyes hardened. "You too shall join her in researching. A divorce is absolutely necessary. Oh, and Draco? I've cut out half of your inheritance."

"Half?" Draco sputtered.

"Half," Lucius repeated firmly. "I never expected to do that, but you've saddened me, son. I'm ashamed."

For the third time that day, Draco couldn't think of anything to say in response.

A/N: I love writing this fic. I really do. It's my favorite besides the Bachelor, of course, but since that's finished now I can focus on this one. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it; please drop a few lines in a review and tell me what you think of the chapters. Too fast, too slow? Just right?

Oh and guess what, everyone! It's my birthday today, August 11! Yeah! And guess what makes a great gift? Reviews!!

I love you all so much!


	9. The Latest Trend

Rise and Die! Chapter 9

A/N:

o-o-o-o symbolizes a break in the story

Draco wished he'd never screwed his life up. He hadn't meant to. It was amazing, in a very bad sort of way, what one night could do. One little mistake, resulting in a whole lifetime of regret. It was absolutely terrible.

And now, his father had cut out half his inheritance. Half. Half was a ridiculous number. Half was insanity. Half was… pure _evil_.

Poor Draco would only be left with three hundred and seventeen million galleons instead of the six hundred thirty four he deserved. He would half to be careful with his money—he couldn't just spend it around. He wouldn't be able to have houses in Sevilla, Paris, Zurich, Edinburgh, and Minsk. He might have to cut out Minsk and Edinburgh (the Edinburgh loft was awfully drafty anyway).

"I hope this makes you understand, Draco," his father said coldly, interrupting his thoughts, "that you've made a very grave mistake. And here I want to let you in on a little something."

"What is it?" Draco tried not to look pained, but surely the news wasn't good.

Obviously, it wasn't. "I don't think there's a way out," came his father's laconic answer. "I really don't. Otherwise, I would've come across it sometime in the course of my well-learned life. I am an expert in all things Pureblood… and I've never heard of a divorce being allowed. Ever."

"Well, what about annulment?" Draco suggested, knowing it was a very futile suggestion.

"Don't be stupid, Draco," his father rolled his eyes, "you can't annul a marriage that everyone knows about. If you'd kept it small and secret, then maybe that could have worked. But it's too late now."

"And whose fault is that?" Draco scowled. "You and Mother have made this whole fiasco one big mess! You're making us throw a party Saturday night and escape on our 'honeymoon' this week!"

"Because a Malfoy never does things by halves," his father scowled right back. "And mudblood or no mudblood we're going all out."

Draco slumped against the wall of his father's study. "I'm such an idiot," he growled to himself. "I should go down and help her. Maybe we'll find something."

"Maybe you won't," Lucius replied pessimistically. "But go look. Perhaps the fates will be good to us."

Draco exited the study quickly and made his way to the library, wondering if his father's predictions would come true. He really didn't want to be stuck with her for the rest of his life. That was a long time. The rest of his life. _The rest of his life!_ _The rest of his freakin'_ _life!_

Oh, bloody hell. Life was shot.

Mumbling, Draco entered the library and found Hermione engrossed in some old, dusty tome. "What're you doing?" he demanded.

"Reading," she replied, absent-mindedly. "This is really interesting."

He glanced at the cover, _Rules of Pureblood Conduct_. "Have you found anything?" he asked suspiciously.

"Hmm…"

"Hermione! You did not come here to read, for Merlin's sake! You came here to find one specific thing. That is, looking for a possible breaking of a Pureblood marriage. Look, look, look away!"

"Right," she stood abruptly. "Right. Let's look. It's not in here. This just says, once a Pureblood man is married he is bound to his wife for … eternity. Not even life, eternity!" she giggled slightly, and Draco knew that the humor was the only way she could stomach such a declaration.

"I hope you understand the seriousness of that passage," Draco frowned down upon her, rather like Madam Pince.

"Yes, I do, Madam Pince," Hermione rolled her eyes, laughing. "Do you remember that woman?"

"Certainly. Everyone was always talking about your torrid love affair with her," Draco smirked.

Hermione gasped and shut her book with a snap. "Excuse me?!"

"Oh, yes," Draco was excited, now that he had a willing audience. "It was just wonderful. Who knew, against the odds, that a student and a teacher, separated by age, class, gender even… could come together against the odds! You two loved each other even though you knew that people would frown down upon your romance! Oh, don't pretend it wasn't true, Hermione. We all saw those furtive glances you sent her."

"Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!" Hermione squealed and threw her hands across her face, as if to protect her eyes from the strange tales she was hearing. "Oh, Draco, please, that's just disgusting… Madam Pince! Oh, God, you've gone and made me ill…"

Draco laughed. Somehow, annoying Hermione never ceased to be really, really fun. "Okay, so…next book…"

She pointed dramatically to the bookshelf. "Let's try _A Pureblood's Paradigm of_ _Perfection_. Sounds interesting, no?"

"I think that my great-grandfather wrote that," Draco mused. "Yeah. Right after his daughter fell in love with a muddy."

Hermione pursed her lips and Draco felt instantly sorry. It wasn't so much that he felt sorry, he suddenly rectified, it was just that Draco had promised not to use demeaning language about her in front of her. "Er, sorry," he mumbled. "A muggleborn."

She harrumphed.

God. Why was she so incredibly difficult to deal with?

"Wait," she suddenly stopped her little I'm-so-mad-at-you-pretense (seriously, who could _really_ be mad at him? He was perfection walking!), "your grandmother fell in love with a muggleborn?"

"Absolutely not!" Draco couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. A simple "no" should have sufficed, he scolded himself; instead he'd gone and made it a big deal. "My great-grandfather had three children. Two daughters and a son. The son, Charles Malfoy was my grandfather… on my father's side. And then one of his daughters, er, what was her name… we don't speak of her… ummm I think it was Desdemona… yeah, it was, it was Desdemona! Yeah, she definitely had a muggleborn's baby. Disowned in an instant."

"Interesting that her name was Desdemona," Hermione said, intrigued. "How very similar to the plight of the actual girl."

"What are you on about?"

"well… have you ever read Othello?"

"No," Draco conceded, although he hated to seem less read than she was (although, unfortunately, this much was true). "Or perhaps I have and I've just forgotten."

"I'll tell you the story," Hermione grinned and Draco knew the girl was in her element. "Desdemona was in love with Othello – and he was a Moor, and the only dark-skinned man in her society. They were married but a lot of people didn't approve of it."

"So then what happened?" Draco rolled his eyes, feigning complete disinterest, but such was a lie. He wanted to know.

Hermione proceeded to tell him the entire story, captivating him completely. "And driven by absolute rage and jealousy… he stabbed her," she whispered, shaking Draco out of his trance.

"Stabbed her! Stabbed her! What an idiot! Obviously Iago was a manipulative little bastard. God. That stupid Othello; I can't believe him. He had no faith in his wife whatsoever. Faith and trust are so important in a relationship… you should seriously think about this sort of stuff before you get married…"

"Unless you're in our situation," Hermione reminded him gently. "Then you just don't think at all. And when you have to deal with the consequences, you realize…"

"You're screwed," they finished up simulatenously.

o-o-o-o-o

Narcissa Malfoy was poring over her guest list. "Oh dear, I've passed the two hundred mark," she commented to her husband, who was reading the newspaper.

"Goodness, Narcissa," he shut his paper abruptly and walked over to her. "That is too large of a party!"

"But Lucius," Narcissa told him coldly, "I cannot just have it as half of an affair. People will talk. They will think that we are not happy with our bride."

"But we aren't happy—"

"Hush! They can't know that. You know what we must make them think? We must make them think that bloodlines are a thing of the past. We must make them think that it is utterly and completely fashionable to marry a pretty little mudblood. To marry an innocent little girl and slowly mold her into the ways of pureblood thinking," a smile formed on Narcissa's icy face as she said the words. "Yes. That's what we'll do."

"What the hell?" Lucius was stunned, perhaps by his wife's strange way of thinking. But there was no turning back now, because Narcissa was set.

"No, Lucius," she breathed, "it's absolutely perfect. You know they all want to emulate us anyway. It is the sincerest form of flattery… why not give them a little taste of what they're really going to copy? All this time I've hated when that silly bint Amelia Zabini wears the exact same thing as me… one week later too, the disgrace!...I'm sure she'll want her son marrying a mudblood too! It's perfect! Revenge and my son is the most fashionable of them all! Lucius, I love it, we're going through with it. Make it seem like you are just _thrilled_ with your new daughter-in-law."

Narcissa glared at her husband, and he glared back, mute, until finally giving in via a small sigh. "Fine, Narcissa," he mumbled, "have it your way. Just like always."

"I knew you'd see my point," his wife told him, not even glancing up.

"Yes, of course dear," Lucius bit out, grumbling. He really was beginning to despise that child of his…

"Lucius, have you called Pierre to cater the party?"

"Can't Draco and the mudblood do it?" Lucius whined. "It's their party, isn't it?"

Bad, bad idea to say anything at all. In a flash, Narcissa was in front of him, scowling. "Please repeat what you said," she said frigidly.

Lucius knew he'd said something wrong, but what it was escaped him. "Er… can't they do it?"

"No, before that," she continued in the same unemotional manner, and then dropped it in favor of screaming-woman-in-child-labor, "You called her a mudblood! Haven't I just told you that you love her and you think she is the perfect match for your son! You said 'Draco and the mudblood'. Never again will you say that! We need to practice at home if we don't want to give people outside of the house the wrong idea! You will repeat after me, 'Draco and Hermione'. That is her name."

Lucius felt sullen. "Fine then," he snapped. "Draco and Hermione! Are you happy now?"

"Much better," Narcissa told him approvingly. "Now if you'll excuse me I must go interrupt those two. I've got to plan a shopping excursion for _Hermione_ – see, you'll note that I'm using her name, unlike some people – and I need Draco to arrange the entertainment. You'll help him there, I expect."

"Whatever you say, dear," Lucius grumbled. By now he had a terrible headache and he would say anything just to get his _wonderful_ wife to leave him alone.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Hermione wasn't quite sure what to think. It was kind of nice seeing Draco actually work. He was not being immature about it or anything; he was seriously helping her find a way out of this tangle.

Then again, he was half of the tangle.

But right now the atmosphere between them was pretty amiable; pretty tolerant. She kind of didn't hate it, which certainly was a start. "Hmm, look here," she pointed at a passage detailing the typical pureblood marriage ceremony, "we didn't do any of this. Does that make a difference?"

"Look one below," he told her, not unkindly, "and let me read, it says, _If__ the above is not performed, it is disgraceful of course, but the marriage will still hold if the vows are exchanged and there is a witness._"

"Oh, damnation," Hermione moaned. "This is really awful."

"Agreed," Draco nodded in the affirmative and for a moment there was a nice, comfortable silence.

And then havoc was wreaked in the form of one Narcissa Malfoy, who burst into the library. "Have I interrupted anything?" she asked wickedly.

"not at all, mother," Draco gave her a half-smile, one that wasn't very pleasant.

"Pity," his mother replied in that same fashion. "I was beginning to think you two might have just begun to get along. You might as well."

"Absolutely not," Hermione said fiercely. "I'm sorry Narcissa but I think your son is a bigoted prick and there is just no way that I can get along with someone who dislikes me because of my _blood_."

Before Draco could say anything, Narcissa had already begun to speak – and her words were incredibly surprising.

"That reminds me," Narcissa turned to Draco, "you will never discriminate against your wife because of her blood. I'd say just refrain in public but private habits breed and you might make a mistake. Therefore you really need to be respectful and drop this whole blood thing. I've decided it's very trendy to have a mudblood wife. So go with the trend. If I hear otherwise you know you'll have some comeuppance, don't you Draco?"

"Yes, Mother," Draco swallowed and looked to the floor. His mother could just be so intimidating sometimes. He hated when she did that; making him seem like less of a man. He made a spur of the moment decision. "You know, Hermione and I have been here for a while. I think it's best we went home now."

"Yes, you're right," his mother agreed, surprisingly. "Hermione, you and I need to have a chat about your outfit and your mannerisms for Saturday night. I'll be in touch with you."

"Okay," Hermione shrugged. "We'll just be off then, I suppose."

Draco turned and waited for his wife and the two of them made their way to a fireplace so they could use the floo to get home.

The house was eerily silent and foreboding as they entered. Draco noticed Hermione shiver next to him. "It's awfully cold in here," he remarked, "I wonder why Poppy didn't start any fires."

Hermione turned red. Not quickly, but slowly, as if the blush was creeping on her face. "What is it?" Draco demanded.

"Er, well… I kind of… I let Poppy… I let her go."

Draco could feel the blood rushing to his ears. His voice started out softly, because, like his father the angrier he was the softer he was, "You let my house-elf go?"

"Well," Hermione began defensively. "I don't think we should keep house-elves."

"You let my house-elf go."

"Because it's wrong to have house-elves! The poor thing wasn't even paid! They're _slaves_!"

"THAT'S THE POINT!" Draco roared. "THEY LIKE IT! THEY LIKE IT! THEY LIKE IT! I cannot believe you! And to think I actually thought you weren't so bad!"

He stomped off, angry beyond words. God that girl irritated him to no end, taking away his house-elf. What right did she have? What _right_ did she have?!

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Hermione stared after her new husband, completely and totally pissed off. How dare he yell at her for doing the _right_ thing? How dare he yell at her for removing something in her house? Yes, it was her house now, too. He needed to realize that.

"I really dislike you," she growled under her breath. "I hate you so much. I really do."

He spun around, apparently having heard her. "I hate you too," he spat. "I hate every moment I have to spend near you. If we don't get a divorce I'll have you know that I'll never remain faithful to you and don't expect me to be a good husband because you're not worthy of being my wife… _mudblood_."

Hermione's mouth hung open… what he had said was amazingly hurtful. Tears filled her eyes before she could stop them, and slowly she shook her head, knowing he didn't deserve a response. Instead of hitting him, as was her first instinct, she spun on her heel and walked out.

Fuck pureblood marriage. There's nothing that said she couldn't just up and leave.

A/N: I know it's kinda short and I know the end is a crap place to stop because ya'll are like what's happening… and I'm sorry for that expletive in the end but it's the easiest way to explain how Hermione's feeling… sorry for the delay, too.

Thanks everyone for all those pressies (the reviews)! They were completely amazing. I loved all of them and read them over and over again. I'm overwhelmed. I'm so glad you guys like this story. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter. Thanks.


	10. Return of the Run Away

Rise and Die! Chapter 10

A/N: I don't know why I'm writing this! I have a ridiculous amount of history waiting for me (damn you AP), as well as profuse amounts of physics, pre-cal, Spanish…oh, I could go on, but you guys want the story, right?

Oh, and sorry kids, sophomore year felt like a while ago…can't believe I wrote that Othello stabbed Desdemona. I'm being lazy right now so I haven't gone and fixed it but just so you know: Othello suffocated Desdemona.

It had been twenty four hours and Draco stillhadn't heard from his wife. Needless to say, he was just a little bit worried. He'd spent the last day pacing back and forth, wondering if he should go find her or just sit and wait and hope she'd show up.

He'd even done the unthinkable – and that was calling Potter on his super wizardised mobile. It had been a horrific experience, and Draco didn't wish to relive it, but he couldn't help but keep playing it over in his head, because it all rang true.

"Potter," he had barked into the phone, "er, I've lost something. I was wondering if you could help me."

"Malfoy?" Potter's voice was laced with surprise and disbelief. "What on earth? Where did you get the impression that we regularly helped each other out?"

"I know, I know," Draco mumbled, half-angry, half-embarrassed. "But what I've lost happens to be Hermione and she's awfully close to you – can't for the life of me figure out why – but I was wondering if you'd seen her, or if she'd contacted you, or if she was with you or something…"

If Potter's howl of "Lost Hermione?!" was anything to go by, he hadn't heard a word from her. The next angle to try was even more gruesome.

Yes, getting in touch with Weasley.

After much debate he had finally just decided to call Potter again and ask him how to contact Weasley. The result had been a much contrived and very painful little meeting at a bar, which almost resulted in the death of one Draco Malfoy by one very upset and very drunk Ronald Weasley.

That hadn't worked either.

Draco fumed. He had been through a lot in the last twenty four hours all in the name of his missing wife. To be honest, he didn't even want to find her. He hated her, getting rid of his house-elves like that. In fact the very first thing he'd done in the morning was hire a new house-elf. Ten minutes later, after an eerie lack of shrieks and shouts from Hermione, he'd realized that she had just disappeared.

He knew she'd run away; she had to have. No one would have taken her, God forbid… she was much too difficult to deal with. Anyone who attempted to whisk her away would have to deal with the most annoying person in the wizarding world and wouldn't make it past the Malfoy gardens without dropping her and running for his life.

So, to be honest, Draco was perfectly content with having a break from Hermione. The last week had been exceedingly difficult and it had been just excellent to wake up to a day of no-Hermione. Unfortunately, not everyone agreed with him. Draco was very, very worried that the news would reach his parents and he knew if such were the case he was totally and completely done for.

Gracious, it was now Thursday morning and his mother would suffer multiple heart attacks if she found out that the bride might be absent from her little (okay, large) party. Maybe if he just didn't tell her… no, that would never work. In fact he was incredibly lucky that she hadn't noticed yet.

He spoke too soon. The halls reverberated with her shrill voice just at that very moment. "Draco! Hermione! It's Mummy Narcey!"

But before Draco could crawl into some dark corner of the house and pretend like he wasn't home, 'Mummy Narcey' had found him. "Draco," she said sharply, "why are you standing so queerly?"

"Mum," he protested, his face burning scarlet. "Don't use the word 'queer'. It's got a different connotation now." Merlin, sometimes his mother was just _so_ embarrassing…perhaps it was better that Hermione wasn't here to witness this!

"Well, no matter," his mother brushed it off. "I want to know whether you two are excited about your upcoming party! Why, think of all the lovely wedding gifts you will receive!"

"I don't care about wedding gifts," Draco replied scornfully. "Hmm, let me think," he continued sarcastically, "do I even care about the wedding? NO!"

Instead of berating him as expected, Narcissa simply sent Draco a rather peculiar look. "You don't care about this wedding in the least," she stated, rather than asked.

Draco answered anyway. "Absolutely positively not," he emphasized, for effect.

Effect was lost on his mother, who seemed to be contemplating something. "You didn't care about your impending nuptials with Sally Anne either?"

"Not really," Draco confirmed, wondering if perhaps his mother would do the unthinkable and sympathize with him.

Unfortunately such was not the case. "Draco," his mother finally asked, with a long, pregnant pause. "Are you gay?"

"What?!" Draco erupted, a little too quickly. _"What?!"_

"Well, are you?" his mother demanded impatiently.

"N-n-no!" Draco finally stuttered, still flabbergasted by the question. And then a second later when he regained his power of speech – "No fucking way, Mother. How could you possibly think I was gay?"

"Language, Draco!" his mother barked. "And I only thought you might be gay because, well, you haven't seemed to have been taken by any of these girls. I mean, Sally Anne was just such a cute little girl and I would've loved her, but then you went and married Hermione. And she's not horrid either, you know. Since I've taken care of the mudblood aspect, you can focus on her other qualities. She's rather pretty and quite sensitive. She has potential to be a rather good partner."

"I completely disagree," Draco frowned. "I think she's irrational and overly sensitive."

"Well, that may be," his mother brushed off the comment, "she is female after all."

For a second there was a pause and then Narcissa asked the question that Draco had been dreading. "Where is that girl anyway?"

"She's not home," Draco answered ambiguously. That's all his mother needed to know; there was no desire on his part to explain to her the horrid mess he'd gotten himself into. She wouldn't extricate it from him, either. Narcissa would only make it worse. Thus it was a real shame when Narcissa demanded more information.

"Well, where is she? Shopping, I hope?"

"I don't know," Draco finally mumbled, looking miserable.

Narcissa's gaze turned cold and tumultuous. "What do you mean 'you don't know'"?" she questioned with a sense of austerity.

He shrugged. Might as well say it all. "I mean, I don't know. We had an argument last night and she walked out."

"Walked out!" Narcissa shrieked. "Oh this is awful! Draco, I can't trust you with anything!"

Shamefaced, Draco looked away. Narcissa snarled, "You'll have your comeuppance, dear child. Right now your father and I need to avert a crisis that you have caused. I'll be back, with Hermione."

With that, she popped away.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Hermione felt lost. Geographically, she knew where she was. She was in the Owl Emporium at Diagon Alley, and why she had decided to come here, she really didn't know. She had spent the last half-hour glaring at the owls and getting howls of anger in return. With one last look at the messy pet place, she sighed and left to go outside.

The weather was warm and balmy. Hermione shivered, anyway. She was incredibly upset, but also incredibly embarrassed. She always reacted badly to situations. She had no control over her temper. And she had a pretty good feeling that Draco Malfoy was going to be in a hell of a lot of trouble with his parents when they found out that she was gone. She wanted very badly to go back, but one thing was stopping her.

Yes, pride.

Too much pride equaled a hefty ego, and Hermione knew that she did have one. If it hadn't been for her low status in the wizarding world, Hermione was pretty sure she'd have developed a throbbing superiority complex by now. After all, she was quite smart. Why people refused to see that just because she was the spawn of two muggles, she didn't know. Why were they so prejudiced against her?

Clenching her fists Hermione emitted a scream of rage.

Passerby stopped and sent her fearful looks. Hermione just grinned back at them, and then wondered if that added to that whole "I'm-so-crazy" effect that she was going for.

It just wasn't fair. Day after tomorrow she was due for her huge after-the-wedding party and facing it would probably be worse than facing Voldemort. At that very instant that she was contemplating buying an island in the Caribbean with her newfound money and just running away from the Malfoys forever, she was stopped by—oh, horror of horrors—paparazzi!

Covering her face Hermione sent him a nasty look and hurried onwards – only to find that he was trailing her. "Mrs. Malfoy," he called out loudly behind her, "please. I only want to know some details about your wedding. We are all in the dark!"

"leave me alone," Hermione mumbled and sped on. Where could she go? Just as luck would have it a few more reporters came up to her at that very instant.

"Mrs. Malfoy! Mrs. Malfoy!" they called loudly. "How does it feel to be Mrs. Malfoy? How long were you dating Draco Malfoy before tying the knot? Did anyone know of your relationship, or was it kept entirely secret? How many guests are attending your party on Saturday night? How much does that party cost?"

Hermione sighed. It didn't look like she was going to escape anytime soon. "I'd prefer not to talk about my private life," she replied graciously. "I am not aware at the moment how many guests are attending my social events or what the total cost will be… not," she added finally, unable to keep her mouth shut, "that it's any of _your_ business."

At last pushing past she saw that dusk had spread its blanket across the sky and realized that the safest place to escape was to unfortunately go back. She was going to have to swallow her pride (and what a large pill it was) and go back to the Malfoy manor. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable. So closing her eyes, Hermione Apparated close to her new home and soon found herself standing before the big mansion.

Draco opened the door and his mouth hung open with surprise. "Hermione!" he finally let out. "Hermione."

"Hallo, Draco," she grinned.

"You … oh fuck," he shrugged. "You're back. There's no point in crying over split milk. My mother's about to kill me, by the way. She's settling the last minute details for my funeral. As soon as they're arranged it's off to the gallows for me."

"Gallows?" Hermione gasped. "Please don't tell me they still have those in pureblood society."

"It's a figure of speech," he scowled. "Anyway, if you care to save my life—which you should, you st…" he trailed off, evidently trying to suppress his anger. Hermione was pleasantly surprised.

"I'll have a chat with your mum," she told him. "I'll explain that I simply had to leave to get a breath of fresh air and of course I can't have my breath anywhere else but near the ocean side. It's something I must do. I hope you understand. Tell the maids – not the house-elves, please – to set a bath for me. I'm very tired. Have them lay out my lounging clothes and wizaromatherapy candles please."

Draco stared at her open-mouthed. "What? Where've you been?"

Hermione laughed. Sometimes it was nice to change around completely. She wasn't one for the finer things in life—or at least, she hadn't been before, but now that she had them all at her fingertips, why not use them? She certainly wouldn't mind a relaxing evening.

But before that came something a little dreadful.

A run-in with her least favorite people in the world: Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

And there was still that blasted party.

She didn't even have the time to stop and consider what she was going to tell them, because at that very moment parent one and parent two arrived at Draco's house looking phenomenally angry.

"Do your parents just randomly stop on by?" Hermione commented dryly.

"No, sweetheart," Narcissa said coldly, stressing sweetheart like it was snake venom, "we only do it when he's gotten himself in a mess. I'm terribly pleased to see you're back. Come. Let's chat in the study."

"I'll have a chat with Draco," Lucius hedged, looking mighty unhappy with the situation.

"Lucius!" Narcissa barked. "You would make a terrible father to a girl. It seems you have no interest in anything but Quidditch and killing. Good heavens. Men!"

"Sounds like a plan, Mother," Draco inserted smoothly. "Father and I will just catch up on the latest deaths. Excuse us."

When Lucius thought Narcissa wasn't looking, he flashed his son a grateful look (no. not a smile. Hermione couldn't even imagine seeing Lucius smile genuinely) and followed him upstairs.

While Hermione was happy for Draco and Lucius, having escaped the wrath of Narcissa, she was still here with the woman who immediately ushered Hermione into the study.

"Darling, you ran away," Narcissa stated, peering into Hermione's eyes.

"Sorry. I had a spat with your son," Hermione replied tersely. Narcissa always had a knack for making her uncomfortable.

"I know. He's difficult but the problem is, so are you. And I don't care really, what you do with one another. I could care less if you prefer a life of celibacy over a nice intimate relationship. But the bottom line is that you better appear to the rest of the world as madly in love, for now. If we ever find out a way for you two to get divorced, we'll make it seem like you cheated on him and _he_ divorced _you_."

"excuse me?" Hermione gaped. "I don't think so! I don't want the stigma of an adulteress! Pureblood society reminds me almost of puritan society, with your stupid rules, and the last thing I want to be is a Hester Prynne."

Hermione fully expected Narcissa not to understand her little reference to Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, a muggle book about an adulteress in puritan society. But alas for Hermione, she couldn't even gloat then because Narcissa clearly understood.

"You shan't be a Hester Prynne," she told Hermione crossly. "People would just…throw you out of society. We wouldn't pin a letter on your chest."

Hermione couldn't resist the urge to roll her eyes. "That's not the point," she argued. "How would it look if I cheated on your son? People would wonder why. Maybe your son just wasn't good in bed."

If anything could get to Narcissa, that would. "What!" she sputtered. "My son – just like the rest of this family – is good at everything. That's right. There is no way you would ever cheat on him, he's quite a catch. His looks. His brains. His money. You wouldn't cheat. Well…we'll cross the bridge of a basis for divorce when we come to it. Ordinarily I would say that it's your blood but now that that's the hip thing I'm not sure."

"Fine then," Hermione snarled.

"Anyway," Narcissa waved a perfectly manicured hand in the air, "what I really needed to talk to you about was that party. I have great plans! There will be hundreds of guests and you must look like you are completely in love! Be happy! Be lovey! Hug and kiss and smile and greet… don't you worry, I'll provide you with lots of wine to wash you through the evening…"

As Narcissa droned on, Hermione's face slowly drooped into a terrific picture of horror. This party was going to be a hell of a lot worse than she originally thought.

Merlin. She couldn't even think of a word to describe just how bad it was going to be.

A/N: there we go. Chapter 10 is up. Tell me what you guys thought, I really want to know. I appreciate everyone who waited so long for an update and hope that it was good enough. I also hope that my next update will be sooner… but I can't promise anything. Maybe over Christmas break but I do have to study for the SAT, so I don't know. Thanks! Love you all!


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